Day 7 – Thursday March 4: On the Road!

Our first day on the road, at last. A relatively short ride, as these things go: 40km from Bariloche to Lago Mascardi, a large beautiful lake where we expected to camp out. We didn’t get away until almost 11:30; then we threaded our way off the main road to a spectacular side road that ran across private boating and skiing clubs. We ran out of pavement after about 8km and headed up a steep gravel road that went on for 5km, then back to pavement for the remainder of the trip. Glorious weather; David and Dario – our “keepers” along with the driver Anibal from Dirty Bikes in Bariloche (who was accompanying us with the Dirty Bike trailer for the first few days) stopped and made us lunch, so we felt greatly pampered. The ride, in short, was splendid. And it was over by mid-afternoon.

We arrived at the “camping” site at Lago Mascardi to discover that we actually were sleeping in little connected cabin rooms with four bunks in each, rather than tents. There was a rudimentary restaurant serving food and drink in a lush setting. A short distance down a nearby trail lay another lake, which attracted the fly fishermen in our group (Steve, Tom, Ray, Bram). They gathered up their gear and hiked off excitedly, while the rest of us considered the afternoon or napped. No fish were caught or injured in either exercise.  

The people in charge of the camping site made us a delicious pasta dinner as the light faded. Candles appeared and we finished off the evening with an early bedtime, resting up for the second day’s ride.  

Day 8 – Friday March 5: De-lights on the highway

We leave Lago Mascardi behind in the morning to start another day of just over 40km, this time to an actual campsite alongside the highway at El Foyel, a sweet little town on a hilltop. We cover the distance at a good pace and spend time unpacking tents, selecting tent sites, taking showers in a cramped and (some would say) déclassé cement shower. There’s ritual washing of jerseys and hanging them out to dry in the afternoon sun. David and Dario and Anibal make us lunch under the canopy of trees. No worries mate. And beers all around. Despite the relatively easy day, napping happens.

More beers at seven, basking in the declining sun around a table in front of our little restaurant/bar with a view that goes forever. Dinner at eight inside; during dessert we’re interrupted by a friendly local, a lean graying handsome man with overbright eyes, well in his cups. He claims to be a helicopter pilot and the owners help him fly off. For the rest of us it’s time to return to our sleeping pads in the tents. A little rocky, but we need rest for tomorrow, a big day.

During the pitch dark night the Southern Cross shines like a string of diamonds and the Milky Way swirls off into infinity. Who wouldn’t be happy to be here?

Day 9 – Saturday March 6: It’s a long way to Lago Epuyen, a long way I know

Today we cover a nominal 87km, but as it turned out, over 53 miles -- though still on pavement, making our way from El Foyel to the Hostel Lemuria near Lago Epuyen.  After breakfast and breaking camp we still get a relatively early start onto the road. At about 40km we arrive in El Bolson, the largest town in the region, where we had planned to stop for lunch. No one’s hungry enough to eat, but it’s market day in Bolson, and we spot a huge market place set up with booths selling all kinds of crafts and other goods, so we wander around marveling at stuff. The town apparently has a reputation as a kind of “hippie” town, whatever that might mean these days. Counterculture perhaps, with the occasional wafting scent of dope? In any case we all agree it’s a dandy place, but have to move on after shopping.

The road stretches on and on as the afternoon heats up, and some of the hills are miles and miles long. After a final uphill wringer through what has become ovenlike heat, we come to a 5km stretch of unpaved road, a shortcut leading down to Lago Epuyen and the pleasures of Hostel Lemuria, with sweeping grounds and clean comfortable rooms. Behind the main house is a boat about 35 feet long which has been converted into a bedroom, and the guides stay there. It is Anibal’s last day and in the morning we’ll be joined by his replacement from Dirty Bikes, Tristram – yes, a German who grew up in Argentina.

All of us are tired and we relax into the comforts of the hostel. Some try to reach the lake but it seems to recede before them, so another fishing trip is caught and released. Beerish re-hydration does occur however, and rest before another amazing meal at nine. Then another night with a clear sky. For our ride tomorrow there’s some dark talk about the beginning of gravel, the main surface of the Carretera Austral.  

Day 10 – Sunday March 7: Plowing gravel towards Cholila

Today we got our first taste of the whip of gravel. We left Lago Epuyen mid morning and travelled for about 20-24k before we hit the unpaved section of the road. The road itself was in fact being paved, so the gravel was new and loose stretching for another 26k to our destination town Cholila. We let some air out of our tires and pressed forward, plowing through the stuff. We made it to town, exhausted and hoping that the gravel further ahead will be better packed, less treacherous.

Cholilo turns out to be a small community in the middle of a flattish plain with hills all around – but it is large enough to support a school and a tourist information center.  Hot. Dusty. Quiet. Happily, after riding around through deserted streets we discovered a parillo – a grill – that was open down at the end of one of the streets. Since we were only 2 miles from our hostel we decided to chow down right away. We were welcomed by a smiling old white-haired proprietor, Manuel Hernandez, who brought us cold beer (and cokes, yes), and put some steaks on his grill. Excellent.

So we arrived at our hotel, the Hosteria El Trebol, tired but cheerful, and we were delighted to discover that the spacious rooms had showers en-suite and faced either a central yard or looked out towards the mountains and lake. The fishermen in our midst, still undiscouraged, walked down to the lake and returned with the usual number of fish, uncaught and unreleased. Dinner at 9:00 was fabulous spaetzle goulash, one of the last dishes we expected in Patagonia; we stayed up until nearly midnight, in part because tomorrow is a rest day.

PS For those of you hoping for quicker postings, please remember that we’re out of wi-fi range for days at a time down here, and that the postings have to be joined to some chosen photos, which are in turn downloaded from different cameras and resized. With any luck we’ll catch up on the rest day, but we head for the countryside again on Tuesday (day 12), so have patience. Meantime, let us know if you’d like to hear about anything else we’re up to.