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Published: November 18th 2009
9 November (day 16) - El Calafate
We slept very well and could have slept for another 12 hours but dragged ourselves up at 8.30am for breakfast. Marcela cooked James some eggs and we watched a bit of very bad Chilean daytime TV before packing up the car and leaving to return to Argentina.
The border crossing was no less eventful than on the way through. First at the Argentine border we got our passports stamped and returned to the car only to find that after 10 minutes of waiting they still hadn't opened the gate. It turned out we hadn't got our car document stamped - they could have told us rather than watch us sitting there. The woman at the Chilean border took 30 minutes (no exaggeration) to fill in 5 cells of an excel spreadsheet. She also made us reverse 20m back as we had already crossed the border which she wasn't too happy with. We had at least got wise to the fruit thing and had hidden our apples in my bag.
We are most relieved to be back in Milka Oreo land but managed to resist stopping at the first supermarket we saw
and instead sped on to El Calafate. Well I say sped as we chose the most direct route, but it was along route 40 which is gravel so it wasn't the most comfortable journey. We stopped by the road side along the way to have our philadelphia and chorizo sandwiches while watching the sheep drift across the road - we don't think many people actually use this road.
Our accommodation in El Calafate was a big two storey cabin. We dumped our bags and drove the 80 kilometres to the Glacier Perito Moreno. Having spent the last few days surrounded by glaciers, we were slightly apathetic when we arrived, expecting to take a couple of photos and get straight back in the car. The glacier didn't disappoint though. We were amazed by the sheer enormity of it and were lucky enough to see a couple of reasonable sized chunks of ice break off into the water making a huge cracking sound. We walked up and down all of the walkways (not a pleasant experience for my still aching legs) and took hundreds of photos, none of which really capture how big it actually is.
On the way back
we saw our first armadillo. It ran out onto the road and James missed killing it by an inch. We have seen loads of roadkill here - dogs, hares, guanacos, sheep and even a cow.
We decided to make use of our cooking facilities and finished our pasta and sauce for dinner - not as good as when we were in the park. We tried to sort accommodation for our 2 nights in El Chalten but most places were full so we are just going to rock up and hope.
10 November (day 17) - El Chalten
We woke up this morning feeling really exhausted. Maybe the pace of our first 2 weeks has caught up with us, I am definitely keen for a couple of days of doing nothing. It is a pity we plan to do a 6 hour walk today and an 8 hour walk tomorrow!
James has realised that he has lost the belt to his trousers and his long sleeved walking top. We are hoping El Chalten will have a hiking shop otherwise he is going to be very cold.
Having our own transport is great as we have the
freedom to stay as long as we like and don't spend time waiting for tour groups or buses to ferry us around. It also has the advantage that we can leave when we want, which generally means slightly longer in bed. However, the first disadvantage we have encountered is the getting lost thing and the second is that you have to fill up with petrol. I have just looked up from typing to see the petrol red light on. We are about 80km from the nearest petrol station, lets hope it is downhill!
I am now writing this a couple of days later and as you will find out if you read on, there are a couple of slightly bigger disadvantages to having your own car than just getting lost.
Luckily despite the red light flashing with about 30km to go, we made it to El Chalten. We found a room at a basic but ok hostel called Los Nires, left our bags and set out on a walk to see Cerro Torre. It had been blowing a gale in El Chalten but the walk was sheltered by a ridge so it felt quite warm. We started off
climbing up a pile of rocks in the town's rubbish dump (not mentioned in the Lonely Planet directions and we hadn't bothered stopping to get a proper map of the area). The view and smell improved from there and after a couple of hours we arrived at a glacial lake with the mountain ahead of us. There were clouds over part of the mountain but it still looked good. On the walk back we both agreed that we were a bit bored with walking for ages to see one thing and then having to walk back. We decided to leave the next day rather than doing a walk to Cerro Fitz Roy, settling instead for the spectacular views that you get from the road.
When we were looking for petrol we had spotted a Wafleria so thought it was only right to stop by on our way back from the walk. Two enormous waffles with chocolate and ice-cream each definitely rank in our top 3 meals in Argentina so far. This treat was shortly followed by dinner at Estepa where we ordered the lamb special and a vegetable calzone pizza. The waitress warned us the calzone was enormous and
she wasn't wrong. We managed to finish each just, washed down with some local brew mixed with 7up but we felt pretty sick.
11 November (day 18) - Route 40
We were just settling down to eat a lovely big breakfast when the husband of the annoying couple from Trelew walked in. We knew for certain it was him when he confronted the waitress for some toast and then tried to steal the basket that was being brought for the table next to his. We kept our heads down, didn't speak and when we heard his wife arriving, picked up the remains of our toast and legged it to our room!
The Lonely Planet has a big section on driving Route 40, a road that stretches the entire length of Argentina and varies between gravel and tarmac depending on which bit you drive. They describe rutted RN40 as 'every bit a no-man's-land' and they are spot on, when you see a sign to somewhere 4000km away you know you are on a long long journey. We had already driven part of the gravel bit between Rio Turbio and El Calafate so thought we knew what to expect
- we were wrong! I made James check the oil and water and by 9am we had set off on our 1400km journey.
The first part was paved so we flew along to Tres Lagos where you are warned to fill up with petrol as there are no more gas stations for 400km. Tres Lagos is only one road but we failed to spot the gas station so I had to ask a police man. The man who filled up our car asked which way we were heading and laughed saying the road was skiddy, boring, slow and there was nothing to see. The second we left Tres Lagos we were on gravel roads and by this I don't mean nicely compressed gravel, I mean loose rocks and boulders which if you drive faster than 40km/h smash into the bottom of your car making horrendous sounds. After about 10km the road improved slightly and our average speed increased to about 60km/h. The only morning drama was a big skid which had James fighting for control of the car but as there was noone else in sight (we only saw 5 cars all day) he had plenty of road to
play with and we continued unscathed. Sheep, guanacos and birds meander across the road and don't seem too bothered about cars so we had to slow down a few times to avoid killing them.
The most exciting scenery all day was a huge lake so we chose that as our first lunch spot (we decided to have 2 lunches to relieve boredom). Lunch number 2 was in the middle of nowhere and shortly after we came across a 40km paved section of road - you wouldn't believe the excitement. The most depressing thing was that this paved section was followed by about 80km where there was a nearly completed paved road running next to our road but it wasn't open yet.
The next 10 days is our least planned part of the trip so I spent most of the journey with my head in the Lonely Planet reading about both Chile and Argentina and working out the best route so we could see as much as possible but not be too rushed. Our general plan for the day was to drive for 600km and stay the night at Estancia Telken where the book promised delicious, abundant meals, then
backtrack slightly in the morning to visit las cuevas de las manos, some cave art dating from 7000BC. We reached Bajo Caracoles, about 100km south of the Estancia and the turning for the caves just before 4pm so decided to visit that day as they were open until 7pm. We filled up with petrol and started along the 50km gravel track to the caves. Tours are every hour so at 4.20pm when we were only 20km away we thought the timing would be perfect for the 5pm tour. Little did we know!
As we headed over another bumpy hill we heard a loud bang and then the engine cut out. After a couple of attempts to restart and with the car stinking of petrol, James got out to investigate. When he looked under the car he could see the fuel line hanging on the ground. Closer inspection revealed that the protective covering for the fuel filter had come loose and a rock had severed the fuel filter. We got back in the car to discuss our options. We had no mobile reception and were 30km from Bajo and about 20km from the caves. It was 4.30pm and we hadn't
seen another vehicle for about 30 minutes so we decided to wait until just after 5pm (when anyone on the 4pm tour would be leaving). By 5.10pm noone had come past so we repacked our day sacks with food, water etc (luckily we had a full 6 litre bottle with us) and got ready to walk. Walking was not an appealing option as it was freezing and as always very windy. The other problem with it was working out which way to go. Clearly the caves were nearer but there was no guarantee there would be anyone there and they definitely wouldn't be able to tow us anywhere. We figured that they would at least have a phone so decided the shorter walk was the answer and set off down the road with me trying to avoid huge locusts that were being blown across my path.
About 3km along we spotted a car crawling along the road. We stuck our hands out but they didn't seem to be slowing so I stood in their path. They begrudgingly stopped and we explained our problem. It was a couple from BA and their dog who were on a 3 week driving
holiday round Patagonia. They let us in and we drove back to Bajo in their car. They were really sweet and kept pointing out guanacos, lambs and nandus to us, expecting us to be excited even though that was all we had seen for the last 8 hours. We were very grateful for the lift which took them a few km out of their way.
The 10 minutes we had spent in Bajo Caracoles on our way through had given us a good idea of the place. Described in the trusty Lonely Planet as a blink and you will miss it gas stop, we were hoping that they at least had a mechanic among their 40 person population. We entered the gas station/shop to find a big party of Germans drinking beer. They were on an overland tour from Santiago to Ushuaia (the leaving port for boats to Antarctica) and were spending the night in Bajo (for reasons better known to them but probably because there was nowhere else for miles around). Their tour guide was Chilean and spoke German and most of the group spoke good English so after some 3 person translating we managed to explain what
was wrong and establish there was a mechanic round the corner so we headed with the tour guide to find him. He was drinking mate (a green herb tea like drink that all Argentinians drink with the herb still in the water) with his friends but agreed for 500 pesos (£80) to pick up our car that evening. We walked back to the gas station to wait for him to finish his mate and met a Canadian who was biking from Canada to Punta Arenas (very southern point of Chile) and camping the whole way. He told us he had some bonding glue that took 20 hours to dry but when it did it was like steel. He headed off to find a place to camp but said he would stop by in the morning to check we were ok. We were secretly hoping our mechanic would be able to fix the problem that evening but we were grateful we had a plan B.
At 7pm we set off in the mechanic's pick up truck back along the same bumpy road. Conversation was non-existent until we got to the 30km mark and he said that the Chilean guide had
said our car was 22km away. As we had told him 30km I wasn't going to be had for more money so got going with a bit of Spanish. He seemed to accept what I said and after that he wouldn't stop talking. He loaded the car onto his truck and we started the slow journey back.
He asked what we did (we even had a joke about accountants being boring in sign language), he told us about the history of Argentina (that there are people of English, Spanish, French, Portuguese and Italian origin but not Israelis or Germans apparently!), he mentioned that people in Argentina don't like the English because of the Falklands but he didn't mind (luckily otherwise we would have been left on the side of the road with a dead car) and he also acted as our tour guidc stopping for us to take pictures on the way.
The bad news was he told us he couldn't mend the problem and the nearest place that could was Perito Moreno, 135km from Bajo. He said he would take us there for another 1,200 pesos, a total cost of £270. With no way of phoning our
rental company and a distant memory of the woman there telling us any pick up fees would not be covered anyway, we agreed to him taking us. Unfortunately as it was now late he said it wouldn't be until the morning.
Our 2 short visits to Bajo had confirmed that we really didn't want to be stuck there for the night. The Lonely Planet's description of the hotel is 'lodgers put on a brave face for Hotel Bajo Caracoles, a severely over-priced flophouse with old gas heating units that require a watchful eye'. We were surprisingly grateful though to find they did have a room (the last one available). It was freezing and the heater didn't work but it was a bed.
We ate a very appetising meal of bread and jam then hit the sack in all our clothes.
12 November (day 19) - Route 40 continued
We were up, showered and had eaten the remainder of our bread and jam before our 7am pick up. We met a French guy in the hotel reception (which also doubles as the bar, restaurant, gas station and shop). He was joining a car rally of French nutters
travelling from BA to Ushuaia in a variety of old style rally cars. We wished each other luck and headed on our way.
Our mechanic (whose name we never established) had a friend in tow today - a very sweet puppy. James' face fell a mile when he realised we were going to be spending the next 3 hours in a very confined space with a smoking mechanic and his dog (as he is allergic to dogs). The dog took a shine to me and spent the entire 3 hour journey on my lap, the consequence of which is that all of my clothes now have dog hairs on and stink.
The first 60km were on dirt tracks and time ticked by very slowly. The mechanic was keen to make conversation and wouldn't let me get out my dictionary, instead saying things in loads of different ways until I understood. He had a nescafe jar full of sweets which he shared with us and he continued his tour guide status from the day before.
After just under 3 hours we arrived in Perito Moreno and took out a lot of cash while he searched for a mechanic
who could fix it. He had trouble as most were still in bed (it was 10am) but he found one and got to work unloading the car. Instead of going to get the part he needed he sent us off in search of the new fuel filter. Once we had returned with the right part (amazing result given where we were) the guy was in no hurry to mend the car and instead continued to sit round a table with his mates drinking mate and chatting away. They asked us to join them which we did but politely declined the mate. Eventually one guy took the filter and mended the car in about 3 minutes charging us only 50 pesos (£8) - if only we had broken down nearer a town it would have been a lot cheaper.
Now you might think that with the problems we had just had we would cut our losses and move on past the caves, but not us. We dropped in at the tourist office and got directions to the other way into the caves which involved a short hike through a canyon. We stopped off at the bakery and supermarket but still
failed to find food of any substance so bought some more bread, cakes, chocolate and sweets and headed back south. We turned off the main road and followed a dirt track for 7km then paid the entrance fee for the caves and drove a further 18km through private farm land on a very slippery road up and down pretty steep terrain. Although the guidebook had said they did tours every hour, the tourist office booklet said every 2 hours with the next one at 1pm. I realised this at 12.30pm when we were still bumping along the track and had the canyon walk at the end. We left our car at 12.45pm on the edge of what turned out to be a very very steep canyon and started our descent. It was pretty much a vertical drop and we were doing it in trainers and at speed on very loose shale but with rocks dotted all over the place. We went for the sliding down approach which although dangerous was pretty effective. On the way down we passed 3 French people who didn't seem in so much hurry for the 1pm tour. We ran through the middle of the canyon
and headed up where we thought the path went but ended up missing the path and instead climbing up a sheer rock face to the top. We arrived with 2 minutes to spare but were dripping with sweat and could hardly breathe.
Typically the tour didn't start until 1.20pm. We chatted to a different group of French people who turned out to be part of the car rally we had heard about that morning. There was also a mad Italian who had cycled there, who we had passed in our pick up truck that morning. Of all the roads in the world to cycle on the last one we would pick is Route 40 with its dull scenery and masses and masses of dust. We quizzed them all about their routes and having come from Chilean Patagonia they told us the roads were worse than here and we would never make it in our Corsa - we were very glad we asked.
The rock art itself was interesting and worth the effort it had taken us to see it. Our guide's English was bad but we got the gist. We headed back to our car at a slightly
slower pace and ate bread and dulce de leche followed by cakes for lunch. We were both sick of eating bread, cakes, biscuits, chocolate and sweets and agreed to find something more substantial for dinner. We had even started fantasizing about eating nice meals giving each other 4 hypothetical meal choices and making the other pick which one.
After refuelling in Perito Moreno (our third visit of the day to the same garage), we headed back onto Route 40 where we knew it was unpaved for the next 135km. Our main conversation was about why we hadn't opted for a 4x4 and how it would probably have been cheaper to pay the extra rental cost than pay the £270 we had just forked out. Having said that, we did get to experience proper authentic Argentinian life for a short while, we wouldn't have been sat round with a load of mechanics joking about mate and beer otherwise.
The 135km were pretty bad and at one stage sheep were going faster than us. James suggested we took it in turns to get out and run next to the car so at least we were doing some exercise. After nearly
3 hours we arrived in Rio Mayo, sheepshearing capital of Argentina, where there are 3,500 people and 800,000 sheep. Our hopes of a nice dinner faded in seconds and after searching for something different we settled on slightly stale cheese and ham sandwiches. We were still covered in dog hairs, sick to death of breathing in dust and just about ready to collapse for the night but decided to push on to the next tin pot town.
Yet again there were no road signs but we managed to choose wisely and left the town grateful for the paved road. We had chosen to avoid route 40 for the next 200km and instead go a very slightly longer way round on paved roads. This was a great decision, although there were still a few desvios (diversions). It seems that they are working on pretty much every road we drive on, although sometimes the diversion road is better than the real thing.
The only excitements of the next 200km were spotting a grey fox, me taking James 10km in the wrong direction as there was yet again no road sign and it getting gradually dark. Driving in the dark was
tricky as the only other vehicles on the road were lorries and their lights were blinding for us in our little Corsa. We reached Gobernador Costa with its population of 2,000 at 10.15pm. We found a room at the Lonely Planet recommended Mi Refugio which was only marginally better than our Bajo room the night before but unfortunately had no hot water so we would be going to bed very dusty.
We switched on the TV to find South American pop idol - all the contestants seemed to be doing was dancing raunchily with the judges but it was good for a laugh. We agreed that we would do a day trip into Chile the next day to see some fjords and go to some hot springs, although without a map we couldn't work out exactly how long the journey would be.
13 November (day 20) - Route 40 to El Bolson
I woke up early worrying about going back on dirt roads. Although I wanted to make it into Chile, I also realised it would be a long day and we were getting really fed up with spending whole days in the car. I also had
a headache and felt ill from living on rubbish food. We were both keen to go though so decided to still cross the border but to take it easy for the day and see where we ended up.
On opening the door to go to breakfast we realised our plans had been scuppered again as we had a flat tyre. We thought we had had all of our bad luck before Friday 13th, but clearly not. James took to work changing it, which wasn't easy as the jack didn't work very well on gravel.
It was getting late so we stuffed down a very average breakfast of orange juice and stale bread, which turned out wasn't included so cost us a wapping 25 pesos (£4), then headed in search of a gomeria. It is testament to the journey we are having that we don't know the names for many other kinds of shop but we certainly know what to look for when we need a mechanic.
By 10.30am we were on the road with a new spare tyre and our pressure checked. I had called an end to the Chile idea, not being able to face any
more disasters on the gravel roads. We spotted a mileage sign on the way out of town and realised that the road into Chile would have been 240km on dirt roads - a very wise decision not to go.
Esquel was the next town and with 36,000 people, we were hopeful of a nice lunch and maybe even some mobile reception. We were not disappointed. We found a lovely confiteria for lunch (Maria Castasgna) and ordered our first proper meal in 3 days - hamburger and pasta - delicious. They were showing Nadal vs Tsonga on the TV and had wifi. James spent most of lunch trying to access his 3 voicemails (without success) while I got to work checking ferry timetables and e-mails. We managed to drag ourselves away about 2.30pm after some lovely waffles and dulce de leche.
We headed up the road to the national park we had planned to visit (Parque Los Alerces) but found the road was closed. We returned to Esquel and visited the tourist office. James forgot to put the handbrake on and we rolled into the car in front but luckily no damage done, other than to James' knee as
he dived into the car to put the brake on. We were told that there was another road into the park but the bad news was that in order to see the really old alerce trees you had to get a boat, the next one of which was leaving in 2 days! We decided to visit anyway and it was worth it. As it was quite late when we arrived, we only saw one other couple. We drove along a very scenic (of course gravel) road by the side of a huge lake with mountains in the background, then stopped off at the intersection of 3 lakes and a river and followed a 3km trail round a small island with spectacular views and very diverse flora including an alerce tree. We were pleased to have at least seen one of the trees even if it was only 60 years old. We didn't manage to spot any huemul deer who are meant to be resident in the park but came across loads of cows and horses on the road instead.
The route out of the park took us through some very small villages one of which Butch Cassidy and the
Sundance kid had set up home in after fleeing from the States. After a failed first attempt to spot the right house (we have a lovely photo of a run down farmhouse belonging to one of the locals), we spotted the house, took a quick picture and were on our way.
On returning to Route 40 we were pleased to find it was tarmac and continued our journey north to El Bolson. As El Bolson is officially the start of the lake district, this is where our Patagonia adventure ended.
To sum up Patagonia we would say it is enormous, windy, dusty, cold and mainly flat but with the occasional amazing geographical feature. The roads are terrible, sign posts are generally non-existent and distance signs are normally wrong. However, we have thoroughly enjoyed our time here and although if we did it again we would consider flying from El Calafate to Bariloche, it has been an adventure.
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Jules
non-member comment
Love it
I heard so many great stories about Route 40 - "great" meaning "adventurous" - and yours definitely adds to the list. But sounds like you are having an absolute ball - and it just makes the nice things seeme even nicer - like the burger and pasta meal would have tasted nothing like as good if you'd just got it in a motorway service station on the M4! Keep the blogs coming Saz