Bariloche. A town in the heart of the Argentine Lake District. Ski resort in the Winter, and a Mecca for trekkers in the Summer. We arrived in Spring, between the two high seasons, not knowing what to expect. Our previous two stops in the Lake District, the lakeside twin towns of Junin and San Martin de los Andes, had been relatively dull and uninspiring. San Martin especially was hard to like. It felt like it wanted to be in Switzerland, and what charm it had was consumed by its own rapid, unchecked development in the last few years. The weather was grotty and the prices high.
Coming this far South had always been my idea...I was beginning to think I had dragged Tash on an expensive detour. So we arrived in Bariloche a tad deflated. There was good weather on the horizon, but we had not set our expectations high.
However, the moment we set foot in our hostel, Pudu (named after a small Patagonian deer) things began to change. We bumped into two Irish girls, Roisin and Sarah, who we had lunch with in the Atacama and got on very well with. By chance, three weeks later and 2000 miles away, we met again. We got chatting, and as the artesanal beer got flowing, we soon had a group of friends ranging from Argentina, to New Zealand, Australia and the US.
Our second day in Bariloche, and finally some glorious weather. Tash and I took a bus to a small hill called Cerro Campanrio. National Geographic place the view from the summit in their top 10 views in the world. I am not a fan of this list-mania, or things you must do before you die! But, the view was astounding. From the top, you had a 360 degree vantage point of the enormous Nahuel Huapi lake (a 100km behemoth of a lake that could comfortably fit all of England´s quaint lakes inside it) and many tiny islands covered with pristine forests, all with a backdrop of snow-capped peaks.
That night was Halloween, and we went out hunting for cheap costumes. I managed to find a waistcoat for 30 pesos, (about a fiver) and so decided to dress up as a "duende," an elf like mythological creature that´s popular in Argentina. Tash was a duende too, and looked adorable with her rosy cheeks and painted waistcoat, but I think "idiot" would be a more fitting description for me! But, for everyone in costume there was free pizza, and travellers will definitely humiliate themselves for a meal.
After a day of recovery, our friend from New Zealand, Paul, came up with a crazy idea. Why don´t we all go off to the beach and have a swim? I agreed, as long as he got in the water first. I didn´t think he would call my bluff, a couple of hours later we were down by the lakeshore in our swimming shorts. I dipped my feet in the water. Freezing. Ice cold. Then Paul charged past me and in he went, without hesitation or thought. Not wanting to be seen as unmanly, I went in to. It was testicle shrivelling stuff, but invigorating and refreshing...so cold you felt clean when you came out. Luckily, the Sun was hot enough to warm us up quickly.
The next day, seven intrepid trekkers said goodbye to civilisation and set out for Refugio Frey, a shelter up in the mountains, where we would spend the night. I had my tent, we had food, wine, and vodka, and off we went! Our group included Jamie, a wise Australian doctor, Roisin and Sarah the crazy Irish girls, Alice and Missy, who had been travelling for a few months, Tash, and myself. We had become friends fast in the few days we spent together in Bariloche, and had decided to go on this adventure together. Sadly, Paul the Kiwi was ill, and could not come.
The first two hours of the trek was across gentle, undulating terrain, winding around the base of the mountains. We had to cross several gurgling streams, using logs as makeshift bridges. They provided good opportunities to fill our bottles...the water was fresh, sweet and delicious.
Then, the trail turned up into a valley and began to climb. I was worried about the weight of my bag (I was carrying all our equipment, and tash had nothing! Husband or pack horse?) but it was fine. Any heavier and I would have struggled though, as we wound our way through enchanting Andean forests.
As we walked, I realised being in a group was good. We could alternate who dictated the pace, and you can talk to many different people as you walk, keeping things interesting. Also, I think you subconciously spur eachother on.
The final part of the trek was the most difficult, and the most rewarding. We had reached an enormous, snow covered bowl at the head of the valley, and the trail turned sharply to the left and climbed steeply. Once past the snowline it was tough going. It was only 1km or so, but my feet kept sinking, and my meagre lunch had allowed fatigue to kick in. My pole did its job though, and kept me on my feet.
Once at the refuge we pitched our tent against a stunning backdrop - a frozen lake surrounded by jagged peaks. Our home built and ready for the challenge of a Patagonian mountain night, we went into the cosy cabin the others were sharing to warm up.
A schoolgroup of about 50 kids had arrived just after us, to our annoyance. So much for solitude! They took up the whole refugio, so we were demoted to the second, tiny kitchen. Whilst we were cooking our vegetable pasta and getting stuck into our wine, we realised that two people were sleeping on a thin platform that had been put across the roofbeams, just feet from our heads! So, we ate, and then moved to the bar, expecting to party late into the night (it was Sarah´s birthday, and mine and Tash´s 5th anniversary, so a big celebration was in order.) However, the place was so full people were sleeping in the bar too. Expecting to have to retreat to our icy tent early - it was snowing now and this was not an appealing prospect - our merrymaking was saved by Santiago, the ranger who worked on the mountain. He told us there was one last place we could go, and led us through the snow to...the toolshed.
So, at the top of a cold, lonely mountain in Argentina, a 6 foot square corrugated iron shed became a nightclub. I fetched my speakers, and teachers of the schoolgroup joined us. It was a crazy night; we had wine, music and warmth at our little shed rave. When everyone was nice and tipsy, the Irish girls, life and soul of the party, went out into the snow and performed a medley of Irish folksongs and tunes from Broadway musicals. Surreal and dangerous. Jamie and I, the most sober of a drunken bunch, were quite worried that someone would come to harm, and were relieved when Santiago sent us to bed.
In the tent, with vodka for central heating, I fell soundly asleep. Two hours later I awoke, cold and sober. The rest of the night I slept in fits and starts, jealous of Tash and her rollmat. I had forgotten my mat, and the ground was like ice. Well, it wasn´t like ice, it was ice! It was without a doubt the coldest night of my life, shivering in that tent. At dawn, the slight temperature increase given by the first rays of the Sun granted me a couple of hours comfort, but I know now...never forget your rollmat!!!
In the morning, after a nourishing breakfast of bananas, bread, scrambled eggs and cereal, we set off back down the mountain, towards a comfy bed, normality and the road ahead.
Coming this far South had always been my idea...I was beginning to think I had dragged Tash on an expensive detour. So we arrived in Bariloche a tad deflated. There was good weather on the horizon, but we had not set our expectations high.
However, the moment we set foot in our hostel, Pudu (named after a small Patagonian deer) things began to change. We bumped into two Irish girls, Roisin and Sarah, who we had lunch with in the Atacama and got on very well with. By chance, three weeks later and 2000 miles away, we met again. We got chatting, and as the artesanal beer got flowing, we soon had a group of friends ranging from Argentina, to New Zealand, Australia and the US.
Our second day in Bariloche, and finally some glorious weather. Tash and I took a bus to a small hill called Cerro Campanrio. National Geographic place the view from the summit in their top 10 views in the world. I am not a fan of this list-mania, or things you must do before you die! But, the view was astounding. From the top, you had a 360 degree vantage point of the enormous Nahuel Huapi lake (a 100km behemoth of a lake that could comfortably fit all of England´s quaint lakes inside it) and many tiny islands covered with pristine forests, all with a backdrop of snow-capped peaks.
That night was Halloween, and we went out hunting for cheap costumes. I managed to find a waistcoat for 30 pesos, (about a fiver) and so decided to dress up as a "duende," an elf like mythological creature that´s popular in Argentina. Tash was a duende too, and looked adorable with her rosy cheeks and painted waistcoat, but I think "idiot" would be a more fitting description for me! But, for everyone in costume there was free pizza, and travellers will definitely humiliate themselves for a meal.
After a day of recovery, our friend from New Zealand, Paul, came up with a crazy idea. Why don´t we all go off to the beach and have a swim? I agreed, as long as he got in the water first. I didn´t think he would call my bluff, a couple of hours later we were down by the lakeshore in our swimming shorts. I dipped my feet in the water. Freezing. Ice cold. Then Paul charged past me and in he went, without hesitation or thought. Not wanting to be seen as unmanly, I went in to. It was testicle shrivelling stuff, but invigorating and refreshing...so cold you felt clean when you came out. Luckily, the Sun was hot enough to warm us up quickly.
The next day, seven intrepid trekkers said goodbye to civilisation and set out for Refugio Frey, a shelter up in the mountains, where we would spend the night. I had my tent, we had food, wine, and vodka, and off we went! Our group included Jamie, a wise Australian doctor, Roisin and Sarah the crazy Irish girls, Alice and Missy, who had been travelling for a few months, Tash, and myself. We had become friends fast in the few days we spent together in Bariloche, and had decided to go on this adventure together. Sadly, Paul the Kiwi was ill, and could not come.
The first two hours of the trek was across gentle, undulating terrain, winding around the base of the mountains. We had to cross several gurgling streams, using logs as makeshift bridges. They provided good opportunities to fill our bottles...the water was fresh, sweet and delicious.
Then, the trail turned up into a valley and began to climb. I was worried about the weight of my bag (I was carrying all our equipment, and tash had nothing! Husband or pack horse?) but it was fine. Any heavier and I would have struggled though, as we wound our way through enchanting Andean forests.
As we walked, I realised being in a group was good. We could alternate who dictated the pace, and you can talk to many different people as you walk, keeping things interesting. Also, I think you subconciously spur eachother on.
The final part of the trek was the most difficult, and the most rewarding. We had reached an enormous, snow covered bowl at the head of the valley, and the trail turned sharply to the left and climbed steeply. Once past the snowline it was tough going. It was only 1km or so, but my feet kept sinking, and my meagre lunch had allowed fatigue to kick in. My pole did its job though, and kept me on my feet.
Once at the refuge we pitched our tent against a stunning backdrop - a frozen lake surrounded by jagged peaks. Our home built and ready for the challenge of a Patagonian mountain night, we went into the cosy cabin the others were sharing to warm up.
A schoolgroup of about 50 kids had arrived just after us, to our annoyance. So much for solitude! They took up the whole refugio, so we were demoted to the second, tiny kitchen. Whilst we were cooking our vegetable pasta and getting stuck into our wine, we realised that two people were sleeping on a thin platform that had been put across the roofbeams, just feet from our heads! So, we ate, and then moved to the bar, expecting to party late into the night (it was Sarah´s birthday, and mine and Tash´s 5th anniversary, so a big celebration was in order.) However, the place was so full people were sleeping in the bar too. Expecting to have to retreat to our icy tent early - it was snowing now and this was not an appealing prospect - our merrymaking was saved by Santiago, the ranger who worked on the mountain. He told us there was one last place we could go, and led us through the snow to...the toolshed.
So, at the top of a cold, lonely mountain in Argentina, a 6 foot square corrugated iron shed became a nightclub. I fetched my speakers, and teachers of the schoolgroup joined us. It was a crazy night; we had wine, music and warmth at our little shed rave. When everyone was nice and tipsy, the Irish girls, life and soul of the party, went out into the snow and performed a medley of Irish folksongs and tunes from Broadway musicals. Surreal and dangerous. Jamie and I, the most sober of a drunken bunch, were quite worried that someone would come to harm, and were relieved when Santiago sent us to bed.
In the tent, with vodka for central heating, I fell soundly asleep. Two hours later I awoke, cold and sober. The rest of the night I slept in fits and starts, jealous of Tash and her rollmat. I had forgotten my mat, and the ground was like ice. Well, it wasn´t like ice, it was ice! It was without a doubt the coldest night of my life, shivering in that tent. At dawn, the slight temperature increase given by the first rays of the Sun granted me a couple of hours comfort, but I know now...never forget your rollmat!!!
In the morning, after a nourishing breakfast of bananas, bread, scrambled eggs and cereal, we set off back down the mountain, towards a comfy bed, normality and the road ahead.
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