Advertisement
Published: February 2nd 2006
...that was the mantra we had often repeated to ourselves when things weren't available or stupidly expensive in the south. Bariloche was our last stop of our Patagonian adventure and was going to be the biggest city we had visited since Buenos Aires.
We spent our first day wandering around town, trying to readjust to being hot. We had finally reached a place that takes more than 10 minutes to complete a circuit of, and it´s next to a huge lake so when you get bored of shops (? - Mel) you can go chill by the lake. "Chill" was the correct word, as the lake was freezing!
After a 50 mile circuit on bikes around some very pretty scenery by the lakes, the next morning we found ourselves on a minibus heading out into the country for a day's whitewater rafting. Normally, these trips are very popular with foreign backpackers like us. But as our 2 guides (Thierry Henri and Johnny Knoxville lookalikes) introduced themselves and asked us to introduce ourselves, it became rapidly apparent that we were the only English speakers out of a total of 24 rafters.
After a crash course in Spanish (we're now
Look at the show off
I´m proud of myself for not walking and then Jim goes one better!experts in "forward", "backwards" etc, but since when was "high-side right" the same in Spanish?) and donning some supremely attractive wetsuits and life jackets. As we had cunningly decided to do this on a cold, wet day, we were cold and wet before we started. Once the adrenalin started flowing, it didn't matter! Such good fun, we were grinning all the way down and hoping for bigger rapids. Back at the entrance to the river, the cooks had layed on asado - basically a beautifully large pile of assorted barbequed meat - and we all sat down to eat. Practicing our bad Spanish with the people around us, we were quite proud that by a mixture of the two we were able to communicate. Chile sprung up in the conversation, we mentioned that we were there when Bachelet was elected (the first female President in South America, pretty big news). Some of the girls were quite excited about this:
(Them) "Ooh, yes, it's very exciting! What other countries have had female leaders?"
(Us) "Errr, India. The Phillipines maybe?" (Please don't mention Margaret Thatcher. Please.)
(Them) "What about Margaret Thatcher?!"
(Us) (Damn.) "Yes. Sorry about that..."
(Them) "Oh don't worry.
Getting to know the locals
Some wildlife we found on the way up to Tronador. We have Maradonna!"
Sitting in a tent with nearly 30 Argentinians discussing Thatcher and Maradonna. Suddenly we didn't feel so hungry.
The next day we set off on a trek to Mount Tronador, a 3500m peak that lies on the border between Chile and Argentina. After a puncture (our first yet) we signed in with the park rangers and began a gruelling 5 hour climb to the refugio. 5 hours of uphill, complete with mud, tabaños (evil horseflies) and deep snow/ice, but so very worth it. We had lunch looking over the biggest hanging glacier we've seen, and then climbed up old lava flows to reach the refugio. Relaxing at the height of the surrounding peaks as the sun set was a favourite moment (unfortunately I left my Leatherman at 1500m, with the refugio being at 2000m I eventually relaxed and watched the sun set..) I can't really describe how beautiful it was up here. I've never seen so many stars. And there were no tabaños.
We trudged up through deep snow the following morning to a ridge 2600m asl that lies directly on the border. Mt Tronador stands another 1000m higher but this felt like the
Mel pretends to be hardcore
it might look like a long walk to the top but we were very happy because we were finally out of tabaño country roof of the world. We were standing on the remains of an ancient volcano that had blasted itself apart at some point in the past. We could see Volcano Lanin in the hazy distance and nothing but snow capped peaks and glacier-scoured valleys in every direction. Geography glee indeed!
A few days of doing little but eating (great trout, not so great chocolate), we left Bariloche on a night bus. We chatted to an angry Italian who was cross that it was so similar to home. "Bah!" he said, "this is not South America. This is Switzerland, Italy, Austria, anywhere in Europe!" We didn't mind!
PS: Thanks for all the messages and e-mails. They are much appreciated and all that jazz does work Aaron.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.118s; Tpl: 0.01s; cc: 11; qc: 71; dbt: 0.0793s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
goon
non-member comment
Awesome!! Again!! Where next?