From Calafate, we marched back up the coastline some 3000+ kilometers to the Argentine capital, Buenos Aires (BA), located on the southern banks of the Rio de la Plata river. Actually we road a direct bus for 42 hours (two days two nights) and arrived in BA a bit worn and slimey. I dont recommend riding any bus for that long, granted… ours was decked out with heat/AC, reclining “semi-cama” chairs, and various movies (and you can bet your house there was at least one Schwarzeneger film)!
We decided to get to BA quickly to meet up with the great Tom, good friend of Paul who was on vacation there at the same time (for those of you who have been following, this is the same Tom that we visited in Santiago de Chile).
Arriving in BA on Saturday, we finally caught up with Tom and found some lodging… Hotel Cambremon, a really nice hotel of four stars! Tom, the diamond geezer that he is, insisted on putting the entire bill on his card! So we stayed in BA for three days for free. In return for this generous offer, we bought Tom dinner a couple nights, but the food never really turned out to be quite what we expected.
To make a long story short, the next three days were filled with sleeping late, eating competitions, and tourist shoping while the nights were filled with discos, bars, ladies, and general borachera… it was bound to happen sometime. A great time in general.
Somewhere in the midst of the madness I found Che Guevara’s book Mi Primer Gran Viaje, the story of Che’s motorcycle trip around South America, a book I’ve been thinking about picking up for a while.
P.S. the results of the eating contest are in:
Third All-American Gluttonous Eating Contest
Food of Choice: eggs sunny-side up.
First place: Paul, an even dozen;
Second place: Tom ate 11;
Honorable mention: I choked down 10 (hey, it was my first ever competetive eating competion, I’m still working out my strategy)
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We left Puerto Natales, Chile for the Argentine border crossing in the middle of nowhere on a 5 hour trip down a dirt road. The Argentine border patrol station had a pingpong table set up in the room adjacent to where we had to get the entrance stamp, so naturally we wandered over and struck up a game, thinking the border guards might want to jump in with us. But no, apparently the bleak windblown wasteland that is the argentine pampa took the life right out of their souls because one guard came over and promptly directed us to get in line for the stamp. A bit of a wake up call that made me realize how much we really are at the mercy of these guys and just hope they aren’t having a bad day.
We arrived at El Calafate, named after the Patagonian blueberry bush, a tourist town recently built on the shore of Lago Argentino, one of the largest in South America, as a base for outdoor adventure excursions and to view the Perito Moreno Glacier (photo). We wound up in a nice little hostel offering us the best price (Ar$12) we have found in Argentina up to this point (which is strange because all the books and everyone who we’ve talked to said this was the most expensive town in Argentina). The next day we took an all day tour to the glacier one hours ride to the north. There is just so much that could be said about the glacier, but the only statistic that I really remember from the tour was that its land mass occupied more space than the entire city of Gran Buenos Aires (pop. 13 million). The glacier was advancing and we got to see large chunks break off and fall into the lake.
We are trying to meet up with Tom (Paul’s marine buddy on vacation from his station in Santiago, Chile) in Buenos Aires some 3005 km to the north, so the day after viewing the glacier we head out on a 42-hour, two-night direct bus (which ends up stopping in nearly every town along the way). We figured out that what they meant by “direct” is simply that we dont have to get off and change busses…
We arrived at El Calafate, named after the Patagonian blueberry bush, a tourist town recently built on the shore of Lago Argentino, one of the largest in South America, as a base for outdoor adventure excursions and to view the Perito Moreno Glacier (photo). We wound up in a nice little hostel offering us the best price (Ar$12) we have found in Argentina up to this point (which is strange because all the books and everyone who we’ve talked to said this was the most expensive town in Argentina). The next day we took an all day tour to the glacier one hours ride to the north. There is just so much that could be said about the glacier, but the only statistic that I really remember from the tour was that its land mass occupied more space than the entire city of Gran Buenos Aires (pop. 13 million). The glacier was advancing and we got to see large chunks break off and fall into the lake.
We are trying to meet up with Tom (Paul’s marine buddy on vacation from his station in Santiago, Chile) in Buenos Aires some 3005 km to the north, so the day after viewing the glacier we head out on a 42-hour, two-night direct bus (which ends up stopping in nearly every town along the way). We figured out that what they meant by “direct” is simply that we dont have to get off and change busses…
Hey, two days in Ushuaia were just enough for us… We arrived at night and found a hostel where there were actually a couple of people staying despite the frigid cold. We figured this place would be deserted because its really between seasons. (summer travel season and winter ski season) It might have been because the hostel actually had heated floors! WOW that was nice… but you had to walk outside on a boardwalk to get to and from your bungalo dormroom and to the shared bathroom :/
We drank some beers with some porteños (people from Buenos Aires) staying in the hostel and I picked a little bit on the six-string for them and the night was good. The next day we woke early… a-hem, 11:30-ish (but hey dont blame us… the sun doesnt even rise until 9:30 either). We took an afternoon boat tour out into the Beagle Channel which provided excellent views of the port city which is situated below the very end of the Andean-patagonian mountain range. The chofer drove us past a couple islands out in the channel, one of which was inhabited by lobos del mar, literally translated as sea wolves, but we call them sea lions in Enlish, (FFTKATAP). All day long the wolves lie about, “howling” and fighting between themselves in persuit of a superior position on the rocks for soaking up what little bit of the 6 and a half hours of sunlight there is… It seemed to be a pecking order of sorts, with the biggest, meanest, and by far ugliest of them all at the highest point on the small outcropping. The brownish muddy color of the wolves’ fur coat appeared to be a perfect camoflauge against the island’s weathered surface which appeared quite rounded and smooth but also strained and cracked, a result of being at the bottom of an ancient, 1000-meter glacier that filled the channel eight thousand years ago. (I’ve been reading too much Hemmingway) So all the mountains and ridges are quite rounded and smooth, up to about 1000 meters, after which they are sharp, scraggly, and foreboding, a very interesting contrast.
After viewing another island filled with comorones (some sort of sea bird) and a very old lighthouse, the boat tour ended up on yet another larger island where we could get out and hike around for some great views of the surrounding area. We took the tour with three Germans, one of whom (a free spirit) brought along a didjeridoo (basically, a long hollowed out pole that he would blow into and make farting noises with) and ran around playing it to the four corners of the earth, and to the sea wolves earlier too. He apparently thougt these farting noises would attract the animals, who would thus come up to our boat and bond with us or something. I’ll let you take a wild stab in the dark as to how succesful he was… The chofer meanwhile back on the shore at a small refugio cooked up some sausages and we had an afternoon snack to finish off the trip. The sun gradually set behing the snowcapped mountains as we rode back into port; the mountains took on a pinkinsh hue, and the water turned lovely shades of purple and azure (more, a la Hemmingway).
Day 2, we climbed up the valley behind the city to the ominous peak that is home to a ski lift and three small glaciers. The glacier wasn’t the stereotypical big wall of ice like you’d imagine sinking the Titanic, it was pretty much just a slate mountain that stays partially covered with snow all year. On the lower slopes of the glacier is “The Southern Most Ski Resort in the World” (pretty much everything in Ushuaia is the southern most something or another) consisting of one chair lift, and one slope, not open yet. We took a wrong turn passed the ski lift (following footsteps in the snowy ice or was it icey snow?) and ended up missing the summit route in turn for a route that leads to a high mountain pass in the ridgeline that connects two opposing valleys. After a failed attemt for the summit we decided to head back down and slipped and slid our way back to the town.
We went back to the hostel, savored some large steaming cups of tea, and relished the divine comfort of the heated floors once again. Our room was warm enough to walk around in shorts and a tee-shirt. Walking around town however, shorts and tee-shirts just weren’t quite enough. We never got snowed on while we were there, though the roads were rather icy, making walking home up the steep hillsides somewhat difficult at times.
(FFTKATAP = Fun Facts To Know And Tell At Parties)
We drank some beers with some porteños (people from Buenos Aires) staying in the hostel and I picked a little bit on the six-string for them and the night was good. The next day we woke early… a-hem, 11:30-ish (but hey dont blame us… the sun doesnt even rise until 9:30 either). We took an afternoon boat tour out into the Beagle Channel which provided excellent views of the port city which is situated below the very end of the Andean-patagonian mountain range. The chofer drove us past a couple islands out in the channel, one of which was inhabited by lobos del mar, literally translated as sea wolves, but we call them sea lions in Enlish, (FFTKATAP). All day long the wolves lie about, “howling” and fighting between themselves in persuit of a superior position on the rocks for soaking up what little bit of the 6 and a half hours of sunlight there is… It seemed to be a pecking order of sorts, with the biggest, meanest, and by far ugliest of them all at the highest point on the small outcropping. The brownish muddy color of the wolves’ fur coat appeared to be a perfect camoflauge against the island’s weathered surface which appeared quite rounded and smooth but also strained and cracked, a result of being at the bottom of an ancient, 1000-meter glacier that filled the channel eight thousand years ago. (I’ve been reading too much Hemmingway) So all the mountains and ridges are quite rounded and smooth, up to about 1000 meters, after which they are sharp, scraggly, and foreboding, a very interesting contrast.
After viewing another island filled with comorones (some sort of sea bird) and a very old lighthouse, the boat tour ended up on yet another larger island where we could get out and hike around for some great views of the surrounding area. We took the tour with three Germans, one of whom (a free spirit) brought along a didjeridoo (basically, a long hollowed out pole that he would blow into and make farting noises with) and ran around playing it to the four corners of the earth, and to the sea wolves earlier too. He apparently thougt these farting noises would attract the animals, who would thus come up to our boat and bond with us or something. I’ll let you take a wild stab in the dark as to how succesful he was… The chofer meanwhile back on the shore at a small refugio cooked up some sausages and we had an afternoon snack to finish off the trip. The sun gradually set behing the snowcapped mountains as we rode back into port; the mountains took on a pinkinsh hue, and the water turned lovely shades of purple and azure (more, a la Hemmingway).
Day 2, we climbed up the valley behind the city to the ominous peak that is home to a ski lift and three small glaciers. The glacier wasn’t the stereotypical big wall of ice like you’d imagine sinking the Titanic, it was pretty much just a slate mountain that stays partially covered with snow all year. On the lower slopes of the glacier is “The Southern Most Ski Resort in the World” (pretty much everything in Ushuaia is the southern most something or another) consisting of one chair lift, and one slope, not open yet. We took a wrong turn passed the ski lift (following footsteps in the snowy ice or was it icey snow?) and ended up missing the summit route in turn for a route that leads to a high mountain pass in the ridgeline that connects two opposing valleys. After a failed attemt for the summit we decided to head back down and slipped and slid our way back to the town.
We went back to the hostel, savored some large steaming cups of tea, and relished the divine comfort of the heated floors once again. Our room was warm enough to walk around in shorts and a tee-shirt. Walking around town however, shorts and tee-shirts just weren’t quite enough. We never got snowed on while we were there, though the roads were rather icy, making walking home up the steep hillsides somewhat difficult at times.
(FFTKATAP = Fun Facts To Know And Tell At Parties)
To cross to Tierra del Fuego you have to cross the Straight of Magellan or Estrecho de Magallanes at Bahia Azul (blue bay). The ordeal was pretty nifty and cold, we waited for the ferry to arrive while looking into the clear waters seeing straight (heh, heh, heh) down to the bottom, someone said they saw a small whale, but i missed it. We looked across a couple kilometers to the other side that looked a lot like the side we were on. We took a picture and then crossed. On the ferry I ate a hot dog with mayo, mustard, and ketchup. First hot dog on the trip, cause it was the only thing they had to offer, FYI. A short story by me.
Tierra del Fuego, the Land of Fire is the huge island group at the very tip of the southern cone of South America. The majority of the area is claimed by Chile but the two big cities there are on the smaller Argentinian side: Rio Grande and Ushuaia , the later of which is the proported southern-most city in the world somewhere around 53° Lat. But actually there is a smaller fishing port, Puerto Williams, on the Chilean side that is just a bit further south of Ushuaia… but its all about the same to me… very far south, and with no public transport across the Beagle channel to get to this town, Ushuaia was suitable place for me. The month of May is the begining of low season in this rincón del mundo because now begins the austral winter. and believe me folks, its cold there. But first a little of how we had to arrive at this beautiful and mystical place and the huge expanse of argentinian nothingness along the coast on the road to the End of The World.
Well we had a plan. The idea was to go south from Bariloche along the beautifully unpaved, washboarded-out, and rarely used Ruta 40 through the patagonian steppe plains with the mountains lining the view to the left. It could have been done, if we had arrived a few months ago in peak season. There is no public transit down this expanse of dirt and gravel highway because frankly there’s not a whole lot going on there, civilization-wize. The native animals reportedly dont run away from your car as you drive by because they see so few of them. We really wanted to take a south american safari, but since we dont have la plata (the $ilver) or the willpower to go through the ordeal of buying a car down here (and renting a car is not worth the price either) we ended up as having to catch a bus to the coast and take the more developed, i.e., paved route.
The more direct route to the south takes you to Comodoro but that bus had left 20 minutes before we wandered into the bus station… so much for planning. We sat there for about another 20 minutes trying to figure out what to do. Staying around was just not an option so we just caught another bus to another town further north but at the coast just the same, thinking, hey at least we are going somewhere. The destination, Trelew, (more or less pronounced tre-le-YEW) we left in the late afternoon on an overnighter… (god, I love those) and they woke us with a shake promptly at 7:30 am when we arrived at the station. We went inside to see what we could do about getting south… well, first we knew we could go south and we knew the buses didnt leave till afternoon, so we found some benches and slept sitting up for a few hours.. fun, fun fun, ESPECIALLY to the sound of hammers and ban saws attacking wood and metal on the floor above us. After an extremely good rest (and i mean that in the worst way possible) we got some tickets to Rio Gallegos… further south, leaving in the evening so we had a few hours to walk around the town. It was foggy and cool, not much to see and not exactly on the ocean so due to a lack of real waves, we went to internet cafe and surfed the web for a while, had some interesting chinese (or was it??) buffet, and hopped our next night bus.
Ok to skip the boring details… had to shack up there in Rio Gallegos for the night because we arrived on a Sunday morning, the ONLY day that NONE of the 4 or so bus companies run busses to Ushuaia. Now we thought Bariloche was a bit chilly, this place was down right frigid. A thick perma-fog in the air kept the ground and ears and face rather humid and COLD. Its amazing how cold it really was, and I cant imagine how much worse it could have been had the wind been blowing.
So we finally arrive in Ushuaia on Monday night, after 3 and a half days of travel and over 40 hours on buses. Oh yeah, we arrived very late because the bus never showed up at the Rio Gallegos station until 2 hours late because they had to change the windsheild so they told us, which was protected by a huge steel wire mesh interestingly enough (to keep rocks from flying up and cracking the glass… go figure). The moral of this story, which shall be learned and demonstrated again and again: expect everything and anything to work against you when you travel in the off-season. In the end we saw only bus station postcards of the famed and envied Ruta 40.
Well we had a plan. The idea was to go south from Bariloche along the beautifully unpaved, washboarded-out, and rarely used Ruta 40 through the patagonian steppe plains with the mountains lining the view to the left. It could have been done, if we had arrived a few months ago in peak season. There is no public transit down this expanse of dirt and gravel highway because frankly there’s not a whole lot going on there, civilization-wize. The native animals reportedly dont run away from your car as you drive by because they see so few of them. We really wanted to take a south american safari, but since we dont have la plata (the $ilver) or the willpower to go through the ordeal of buying a car down here (and renting a car is not worth the price either) we ended up as having to catch a bus to the coast and take the more developed, i.e., paved route.
The more direct route to the south takes you to Comodoro but that bus had left 20 minutes before we wandered into the bus station… so much for planning. We sat there for about another 20 minutes trying to figure out what to do. Staying around was just not an option so we just caught another bus to another town further north but at the coast just the same, thinking, hey at least we are going somewhere. The destination, Trelew, (more or less pronounced tre-le-YEW) we left in the late afternoon on an overnighter… (god, I love those) and they woke us with a shake promptly at 7:30 am when we arrived at the station. We went inside to see what we could do about getting south… well, first we knew we could go south and we knew the buses didnt leave till afternoon, so we found some benches and slept sitting up for a few hours.. fun, fun fun, ESPECIALLY to the sound of hammers and ban saws attacking wood and metal on the floor above us. After an extremely good rest (and i mean that in the worst way possible) we got some tickets to Rio Gallegos… further south, leaving in the evening so we had a few hours to walk around the town. It was foggy and cool, not much to see and not exactly on the ocean so due to a lack of real waves, we went to internet cafe and surfed the web for a while, had some interesting chinese (or was it??) buffet, and hopped our next night bus.
Ok to skip the boring details… had to shack up there in Rio Gallegos for the night because we arrived on a Sunday morning, the ONLY day that NONE of the 4 or so bus companies run busses to Ushuaia. Now we thought Bariloche was a bit chilly, this place was down right frigid. A thick perma-fog in the air kept the ground and ears and face rather humid and COLD. Its amazing how cold it really was, and I cant imagine how much worse it could have been had the wind been blowing.
So we finally arrive in Ushuaia on Monday night, after 3 and a half days of travel and over 40 hours on buses. Oh yeah, we arrived very late because the bus never showed up at the Rio Gallegos station until 2 hours late because they had to change the windsheild so they told us, which was protected by a huge steel wire mesh interestingly enough (to keep rocks from flying up and cracking the glass… go figure). The moral of this story, which shall be learned and demonstrated again and again: expect everything and anything to work against you when you travel in the off-season. In the end we saw only bus station postcards of the famed and envied Ruta 40.
Monday Tuesday and Wednesday we took a 3 day trek into the Patagonian mountains right outside Bariloche with two californian girls, Ana and Dalia, to keep us company and give us some comedic relief. The bus dropped us off at the base of Cerro Catedral at the ski slopes, no snow yet. We hiked 3 or 4 hours pretty much uphill the whole way to Laguna Tonchek where there is a man maintaining the Refugio Frey there. The guy was a bit scruff and upon arrival he simply told us “no tiras piedras a la laguna” (dont throw rocks in the lake) apparently it freezes overnight and he ice skates on it and doesnt want anyone disturbing the ice formation over night, it was only 1/3 frozen when we got there. He didnt even ask us if we wanted to stay in the refugio, I guess noticing our huge backpacks and assuming we had a tent, and he pointed us to the other side of the lake to the camping area.
That night we cooked a hearty warm pasta dinner and rushed into the tent to fight off the cold with some more rounds of Hearts and funny wine-aided convro, mainly directed towards my poor card skills (I swear it was just bad luck).
Man, that was a long cold night, I woke at 5 am with my tummy doing strange things… I had to run up the hill and dig a hole to do the deed in the early morning cold frosty air. Yeah, that wasnt the last time either, it came back at least three times before I finally woke at 9 am. The refugio guy was skating on the lake and it was quite impressive. We fixed a breakfast and after everyone got a fairly slow start we were on the trail by 11 am… pretty bad considering this would be our longest day, supposedly an 8 hour hike.
DAY 2: we hiked up about 1500 feet passing a few more small glacial lakes and arrived at a pass behind a false summit of Cerro Catedral with an excellent view of Cerro Tres Reyes. Then we slipped and slid down about 2500 feet in loose rock and sand to a nice green valley. We went up the valley and climbed out the other side at about another 2500 feet (altitude around 5-6 thousand at the top). The girls were pretty hardcore doing the whole trip over rivers, rocks, and snow in wet sneakers, whereas paul and I were sporting our comfy leather gore-tex boots with gaitors on as well. They had a few more spills than we but I think we were all very equally exhausted when we reached the second refugio. This refugio was supposedly closed but they left the door open to the bunk room so we all piled in and put some logs on the stove and cooked up some pasta. It was quite a surprise to see the refugio caretaker, Daniel, show up quite late at night as he was hiking in from a horse ranch in some far off place. He was much more friendly than the other scruffy guy and he played some cool music on his solar power generated stereo including a Bob Marley tribute album from brazilian Gilberto Gil… highly recommended. The refugio was very rustic and it was perched up on a rock overlooking another glacial lake. We drank the pure water straight from the lake (finally fresh water!) I’ve still got a bit left in my camelbak even now and thus far no intestinal problems… hope for the best
The last day we hiked down the valley along the river for 6 hours to the big Lago Nahual Huapi and caught a city bus back the 8 km back into town.
That night we cooked a hearty warm pasta dinner and rushed into the tent to fight off the cold with some more rounds of Hearts and funny wine-aided convro, mainly directed towards my poor card skills (I swear it was just bad luck).
Man, that was a long cold night, I woke at 5 am with my tummy doing strange things… I had to run up the hill and dig a hole to do the deed in the early morning cold frosty air. Yeah, that wasnt the last time either, it came back at least three times before I finally woke at 9 am. The refugio guy was skating on the lake and it was quite impressive. We fixed a breakfast and after everyone got a fairly slow start we were on the trail by 11 am… pretty bad considering this would be our longest day, supposedly an 8 hour hike.
DAY 2: we hiked up about 1500 feet passing a few more small glacial lakes and arrived at a pass behind a false summit of Cerro Catedral with an excellent view of Cerro Tres Reyes. Then we slipped and slid down about 2500 feet in loose rock and sand to a nice green valley. We went up the valley and climbed out the other side at about another 2500 feet (altitude around 5-6 thousand at the top). The girls were pretty hardcore doing the whole trip over rivers, rocks, and snow in wet sneakers, whereas paul and I were sporting our comfy leather gore-tex boots with gaitors on as well. They had a few more spills than we but I think we were all very equally exhausted when we reached the second refugio. This refugio was supposedly closed but they left the door open to the bunk room so we all piled in and put some logs on the stove and cooked up some pasta. It was quite a surprise to see the refugio caretaker, Daniel, show up quite late at night as he was hiking in from a horse ranch in some far off place. He was much more friendly than the other scruffy guy and he played some cool music on his solar power generated stereo including a Bob Marley tribute album from brazilian Gilberto Gil… highly recommended. The refugio was very rustic and it was perched up on a rock overlooking another glacial lake. We drank the pure water straight from the lake (finally fresh water!) I’ve still got a bit left in my camelbak even now and thus far no intestinal problems… hope for the best
The last day we hiked down the valley along the river for 6 hours to the big Lago Nahual Huapi and caught a city bus back the 8 km back into town.
Sunday we woke early to execute a highly planned bike ride along the huge Lago Nahual Huapi (photo) on a 56 kilometer ride dubbed the Circuito Chico, “Small Circuit” in english, which was anything but chico, but definitely a beautiful and worthwhile trip. We rented bikes for $15 pesos (bout 5 bucks americano) and warmed up our rumps for a nice thrashing. The ride began on a nice paved road with a wide, groomed gravel shoulder perfect for bikes… little did we know that our timing was ever so perfect. As soon as we veered off into the woods on a dirt track, everyone and their brother and mother were fleeing in the opposite direction as us for some unknown reason. Choking on dust for at least 2 kilometers as cars and trucks poured out towards the main highway I cursed the Mapuche gods for our untimely encounter with the exhaust-spewing, dust-stirring evil machinery. I also wondered where the devil all these people were coming from. We later passed by that source, which seemed to be nothing more than a river where people go on Sundays (our lucky day) to car camp and picnic… By the time we reached this river everyone had already up and passed us by… so we continued on crossing the river that feeds the big lake.
We pedaled onward to Colonia Suiza (a Swiss colony) where they happened to be having a barbeque. The pit is in the ground and we ordered a plate of everything they were cooking which was a variety of meats, sausages and veggies. VERY TASTEY for 5 pesos (US$1.70) each. after the small lunch break we continued on the loop into the Llao Llao area, which is very pristine right on the lake… kind of hilly too, ugh.
We passed a brewery and a chocolate factory on the ride back up to Bariloche but both were closed by the time we passed them… Other than a few bike chain derailments, and the sore bum that kicked into effect on the last few kilometers, the trip was a success. We cooked a stir-fry for dinner, yum.
We pedaled onward to Colonia Suiza (a Swiss colony) where they happened to be having a barbeque. The pit is in the ground and we ordered a plate of everything they were cooking which was a variety of meats, sausages and veggies. VERY TASTEY for 5 pesos (US$1.70) each. after the small lunch break we continued on the loop into the Llao Llao area, which is very pristine right on the lake… kind of hilly too, ugh.
We passed a brewery and a chocolate factory on the ride back up to Bariloche but both were closed by the time we passed them… Other than a few bike chain derailments, and the sore bum that kicked into effect on the last few kilometers, the trip was a success. We cooked a stir-fry for dinner, yum.
We decided to take a trip a bit to the south to see the artsy hippy-ish town of El Bolsón “comunidad no nuclear” as the sign read as we arrived in town (interpret that as you wish). We shlightly overshlept after a long night and didn’t quite make it in time to catch the morning bus, and then the 11:00 bus was full, soooooo we sat in the Bariloche bus station playing Hearts till noon-thirty (card gameing to pass idle time with random travelers abounds on the gringo trail).
El Bolsón was not quite worth the trouble and time but they did have an interesting feria artesanal (crafts fair). Some unique woodwork and knitting, homemade incense, and great empanadas: just what you would expect from a south american hippy commune. We hiked up to a mirador overlooking a clear river just as the sunset and then back to the bus stop to return to the big city Bariloche, not very eventful excursion but worth a couple sentences I guess.
El Bolsón was not quite worth the trouble and time but they did have an interesting feria artesanal (crafts fair). Some unique woodwork and knitting, homemade incense, and great empanadas: just what you would expect from a south american hippy commune. We hiked up to a mirador overlooking a clear river just as the sunset and then back to the bus stop to return to the big city Bariloche, not very eventful excursion but worth a couple sentences I guess.
We left Chilóe island on the day the weather went south… our voyage also took a detour and we are now headed into Argentina via Osorno to the town of Bariloche, a ski resort town situated inside the National Park Nahual Huapi on the western shore of the 180 km long lake that bears the same name as the park.
The 6 hour ride across the border was picturesque and my face was plastered against the window the entire time. Thick temperate forest much like the Blue Ridge Mountains back home in NC bred incredible fall colours on each tree. As we pressed on deeper into the frontier protected by the Patagonian skyline beautiful granite mountains reminiscent of the High Sierras of California rising above the treeline soon enveloped us in every direction.
As it turns out two californian chicas that we had met and hung out with in Chiloé were headed to Bariloche and arrived a day before us were staying at the hostel called Backpacker 1004, the number signifying the room number of the hostal, which is located on the top (10th) floor of the tallest building in Bariloche. The hostal is quite cool and rather large, occupying what they claim to be the largest flat in town, a space of what seems to be the size of two or three flats in the north end of the building. The west side of the place has a full balcony the length of the flat impressionable panoramic view of the hilly outskirts of town, the gigantic Nahual Huapi Lake below, and off in the distance the Patagonian peaks behind which the sun hides each afternoon around 5:50. Its hard not to write descriptively here because everything in sight is a kodak moment. Fall here is excellent and when winter comes full on the Cerro Catedral mountain opens its doors to tons of argentine skiers aprovecharing the powdery conditions. Tons of treks, bike rides, and adventure sports to do here… so we are off tomorrow to do just that.
The 6 hour ride across the border was picturesque and my face was plastered against the window the entire time. Thick temperate forest much like the Blue Ridge Mountains back home in NC bred incredible fall colours on each tree. As we pressed on deeper into the frontier protected by the Patagonian skyline beautiful granite mountains reminiscent of the High Sierras of California rising above the treeline soon enveloped us in every direction.
As it turns out two californian chicas that we had met and hung out with in Chiloé were headed to Bariloche and arrived a day before us were staying at the hostel called Backpacker 1004, the number signifying the room number of the hostal, which is located on the top (10th) floor of the tallest building in Bariloche. The hostal is quite cool and rather large, occupying what they claim to be the largest flat in town, a space of what seems to be the size of two or three flats in the north end of the building. The west side of the place has a full balcony the length of the flat impressionable panoramic view of the hilly outskirts of town, the gigantic Nahual Huapi Lake below, and off in the distance the Patagonian peaks behind which the sun hides each afternoon around 5:50. Its hard not to write descriptively here because everything in sight is a kodak moment. Fall here is excellent and when winter comes full on the Cerro Catedral mountain opens its doors to tons of argentine skiers aprovecharing the powdery conditions. Tons of treks, bike rides, and adventure sports to do here… so we are off tomorrow to do just that.
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