Days 255-259: Taking the Leisurely Route

We took two days off and extended our time in Bariloche so we could meet up with Kristen and John. If we were going to have terrible weather, we may as well have it in good company. The four of us rented a car in order to drive to San Martin de los Andes and back for the day, a scenic route that winds through the lake district with many miradores.




Sadly the weather did not cooperate and we were left with views of the bottom 3/4 of mountains as we had had all week.Craig also fell under the weather the night before and thus all the driving was thrust upon John's shoulders. The drive and what we could see did turn out to be quite pleasant, as did the company.

Some highlights from the day included the different colours of each of the lakes, and the windy road that followed the coastline. It felt so freeing to have our own transportation for the day! We were surprised by the lack of commercialism at each of the stops and thanks to the gloomy weather, we had the road and miradores mostly to ourselves. We did manage to grab one photo of the four of us from a busier stop.

Not wanting to miss out on a highlight, we drove the extra hour or so to Villa Traful. The LP raved about the quaint town, saying it had an 'achingly beautiful setting.' The only thing that ached for us were our stomachs, as we couldn't find a single restaurant open for business on this off-season, rainy day. We did enjoy the wildlife on the way in, though, and a brief stop at their beach.

We took our last day in Bariloche to enjoy the local wine and play games with Kristen and John. After remaining anti-social in our hostel for a week, we understood why the hostel staff didn't bat an eye at our guests; they were just so excited to see that we had friends!

We enjoyed a delicious meal and even got outside for a brief break in the rain.



We were meant to take a bus out to San Martin but the rain fell with such force that we thought it might be cancelled (that was the rumour going around). Neuquen and Buenos Aires were flooding, and Bariloche had received their annual average rainfall in the past four days we'd been there. With nervous looks and an adventure High Five, we grabbed a cab to the bus station, our driver expertly navigating through the streets that had become rivers. Craig noticed that the one bus in the station read "San Martin de los Andes" and went to ask. Lo and behold, it was still running! Through pouring rain we made our way back to San Martin and spent the night listening to it continue to come down around us.

Day 254: Llao Llao

The forecast wasn't too promising, but it looked like we could get in a short morning hike before the thunderstorms rolled in. We were interested in seeing Llao Llao park and from Campañairo, two days prior, it appeared that we'd have good views from its peak. The bus ride in was longer than we expected, meaning we knew we'd be short on money on our silly Bariloche bus card trying to return home, but we left that problem for later.



We jumped off the bus at the port, glanced up at the impressive Llao Llao Hotel across from us, then turned down Circuito Chico, a beautiful country road popular with cyclists. Large trees lined the narrow road, opposing limbs arching together overhead. The smell of fir trees and the chill in the air had our minds thinking Christmas was nearing, our internal instincts not realizing we were in the Southern Hemisphere.




We turned onto the trail and started our leisurely stroll to the top. Its gentle incline and soft woodsy floor allowed us ample opportunities to glance around, watching the tiny birds flit about, explore the mosses and breathe in the smell of nature. The prospective rainstorms and early hour meant we had the forest all to ourselves.

After about an hour of happy wandering, we came to a fork in the trail and we turned up towards the cerro. Our tired legs whined against the incline but we arrived at the summit in due time. Since our elevation was still quite low, we'd stayed underneath the treeline, so it wasn't quite a panorama. But the view into the river valleys was pleasing all the same. We layered up to avoid the chill and sat down to admire the scape over lunch.

It didn't take us long to jog back down the trail, thankful that it was nothing like the run the day before. We walked out of the park and to a nearby store where we'd been advised we could buy a ticket back to town. Thwarted by the darn Spanish siesta once again, we sat dejected on their outside bench. We had few options left so we agreed to attempt to pay in cash on the bus, though we knew it wouldn't work. In the end, another gracious passenger let us use her preloaded card and we paid her the cash.

Our plan had been to stop for groceries on our way back so we wouldn't have to go out in the rain (and we were a little hungry since we'd had to skimp on breakfast from our food being stolen), but we were undecided about which grocery store to go to. We'd seen there was one not far out of town on the bus and the distance seemed relatively similar to walking through town except we'd have the view of the lake as we walked, so we decided to try it. We jumped off the bus, loaded up our already full bags with food, two bottles of wine and four bottles of beer (liquor was cheaper there!) and turned for home. The load was a little heavy but it wasn't far...



Or so we thought. After a few bends in the road and too many minutes passing with us trudging uphill, we conceded that we had a ways to go. The signpost marked 8 km to town, but that couldn't be right...

We took turns carrying the heavy shoulder bag, tried to enjoy the intermittent scenery while still keeping an eye on the constant traffic whipping by. We slowly grew cranky and dispirited.

We'll save you the gory details, but 8 km later, we collapsed on our bed, thankful that the rain had held off and our legs had held up. It wasn't until later that we discovered it has been a blessing in disguise. It was actually a holiday so our regular grocery store had been closed. Sometimes you can't see the silver lining until later...

Day 253: Cerro Cathedral

Our forecast showed that this was to be the one clear day during our time in Bariloche so we set off on our most ambitious hike. We waited 40 some minutes for our bus to arrive under a cold blanket of clouds. The bus pulled into a cute little ski village a short while later and we were off in the midst of a horde of hikers. Marsha, a girl from Australia joined us as we let ourselves slip to the back of the pack to enjoy some more peace and quiet.






The peaks were still shrouded in clouds but each view we got up or down a valley provided glimpses of the most spectacular fall colours. The forest had huge pine trees spaced apart which allowed a decent amount of light to reach the forest floor. This dampened the chilling effect that the hand-painted sign reading, "beware the forest" had on us. We crossed over a babbling brook and the hike continued gently for most of it. We stopped at a refuge that appeared to have been built by elves; half of a wooden cabin had been built under a giant boulder.



From there, the trail climbed steeply. Our views improved proportionately with the increase in difficulty as icy, packed snow made each step fraught with peril. We reached the refugio at the top of the pass(?) in good time and had lunch, hoping that by the time we were ready to return the way we came that the supposedly stunning peaks would reveal themselves.

Sure enough, as we finished, the haze lifted and we could see the lake beside us and the craggy points of the surrounding mountains that draw climbers here from all over the world.

If we had hiked quickly on the way up, our descent was at a lightning pace. Marsha knew the bus schedule and we would have to hustle to make it and avoid waiting an hour for the next. With 5 minutes to go, we sprinted the rest of the trail, up, down, it did not matter. We pushed ourselves beyond our limits and thankfully arrived in the parking lot just as the driver was ready to pull away.

Unbelievably sore, the bus journey was silent as we rested as our sweat dripped quietly to the floor.

Days 250-252: Bariloche

Despite the rain and clouds, the bus ride to Bariloche gave us many glimpses of the beautiful mountain ranges, lakes, and trees changing colour. It seemed like we'd be hitting this touristy area right when we wanted to: after the crowds, during the fall colour, and before the weather turns cold.Our hostel on the lake promised a comfy room, great views, and good atmosphere. Unfortunately, the weather refused to co-operate with our plans.

After a few down days in El Bolson, we were ready to pack our three full days in Bariloche with three long day hikes: one up Cerro Cathedral, one easier loop along the Llao Llao lake plus a chairlift ride up to a nice viewpoint, and a third day of mountain hiking in the National Park. Not too keen to hike in the rain, cold, and high winds, we immediately extended our stay a day so that we had the promise of better weather later in the week. But the forecast didn't hold true, and we were stuck with rainy-windy day after rainy-windy day. Thankfully, we at least had our comfortable room with a small lake view to make our down time more relaxing.

On the afternoon of our second full day, the clouds finally started to part and we got glimpses of the sun. Fearing this might be our only chance, we rushed out to go up the chairlift to the top of Campanario hill for some 'best-in-the-world' views. We briefly considered hiking up instead of taking the chairlift, but our muscles were still so sore from Piltriquitron that we gave in and paid the fee.


From up above we watched the pristine waters of several lakes reflecting the treed hills and when the clouds moved, peaks would vanish as others appeared.



It was crowded at first, but we waited patiently for the groups to move on, most tourists content with a few photographs and an attempted panorama. We were able to find moments of peace and tranquillity with the nature, during which, it really shone.

Day 247-249: Cerro Piltriquitron

After a day of rest wandering around town, we were ready to get back out and enjoy the last of the beautiful weather. Knowing the hike ahead could be as long as 11 hours, we had hoped for an early start. In the end, we pushed it back to leaving our hostel at 7 am because we couldn't be sure that we'd actually get a taxi any earlier than that. As it was, Craig had to shake awake the staff member sleeping on the hostel couch so we could get out!

Our earliness was quickly rewarded when we arrived at the trailhead in time for the sun rising behind distant peaks onto the valley below. From this height, El Bolson was looking more beautiful, which made us even more excited for the hike ahead.





It was a steep climb through the forest to reach our first stop, El Bosque Tallado, where we had the chance to rest our legs while wandering through the 'exhibit.' Artists from all over the continent came to carve dead trees following a forest fire in 1982. The view surrounding the statues, whether the warm forest or the mountain-scape across the valley, was surely better than any art gallery! Add to that to the fact that we hadn't seen or heard anyone else since leaving the taxi, and you can understand its magical allure.

Another leg of steep forest hiking brought us to a cute refugio that looked out over town. Here, we registered to hike further (mandatory), played with some adorably cute kittens, and fuelled up on snacks before pressing on. The registry showed we were the first people in two days to hike onwards towards the peak of Cerro Piltriquitron.




We'd heard and read that the summit was quite challenging: some scrambling would be required on a steep trail, so we weren't all too fussed about going the whole way. We really just wanted views into the valley in behind, which we expected would have some stunning fall colours. So we planned to play it by ear and stop whenever we were satisfied with our climb.

After a 10 min incline, the path levelled-off and we enjoyed a pleasant stroll along a plateau straight towards the back side of the mountain. We could see bits and pieces of red leaves in the morning light and paused a few times to admire the slope. From there, the path took a bend and we were led up, up, up to a series of switchbacks on loose shale rocks.

Once we laboured up what appeared to be 1/3 of the way of the difficult part, without gaining a spectacular view, we figured we might as well continue and attempt the intimidating and scary climb to the summit in front of us. The next hour had us scrambling up the slope, clawing at the loose rocks with our hands to avoid sliding back down, then some bouldering as we avoided the 40 degree slope by climbing up or around short stretches on the exposed rocks and cliffs. This was proving to be the most technical climb either of us had done and had Erin reconsidering how poorly in shape she keeps saying we are.

We crested the ridge only to discover that perspective had once again fooled us and the post marking the summit was still a ways away. The trail eased slightly but cliffs moved in from the left and then the right, increasing the feelings of vertigo building within us. We pressed onwards to avoid having to think about the descent. Taking a short break to eat most of our remaining provisions and catch our breath in the thinning air we could see the valley behind in all its coloured glory.

 
 Looking back the way we came. The trail goes over the lip of the ridge and then straight down.
Finally reaching the peak, an area the size of a large kitchen table with drops of hundreds of meters on three sides, we sat against/clung to the post for our brief stop at the top. Neither of us are prone to an intense fear of heights, but we felt quite uneasy. The uneasiness might have been enough to limit our time at the top but not our enjoyment. We were alone atop the highest peak in the area. Our view stretched out over many valleys, lakes, the jagged peaks below us, a snowcapped volcano, and hidden forested valleys changing to bright reds.



























For the return journey, we opted for the 'skiing' approach. We squatted and planted our feet, then using either our hands or rocks in our grips as breaks, we slid down the slope of loose rock and sand. Part way down, while Craig was passing a camera to Erin, the other camera (our new one) slid from his lap and landed relatively harmlessly on some sand. Unable to reach for it as he was leaning back to both not tumble down the hill himself and pass the other camera, he could only watch as it slowly rolled over and then tumbled 40 meters down the hill crashing into rock after rock. Yelling at it to stop finally worked and Craig quickly slid down to its resting place. The lens cap had stayed on and we were relieved to discover that it still worked!

The seats of our pants are a little worse for wear, but we had made it down safely from the most challenging summit either of us have ever attempted. Once we were on an incline flat enough for us to walk again, we made quick work of returning to the parking lot. A few cars sat idle, but no one was in sight to negotiate passage back to town. Thus, with every leg muscle crying out with each step, and our feet, toes, and hands torn up by the rocks (Erin had even put a hole in her shoe), we started the 13 km hike back to town.

We were elated when after 1 hour, a truck stopped and let us hop into the back for the rest of the journey. After an early dinner and a celebratory beer, we were thankfully able to stand back up and return to the hostel.

It should be no surprise that for our last day in El Bolson, we rested, booked our journey onwards, and Erin walked out to get a massage. Our only regret was not having our camera with us to capture the most vivid, crisp, and clear rainbow we had ever scene, stretching across the ridge we'd just summited the day before.

Days 244-246: El Bolson

It was another night bus, this time only 12 hours, that took us to El Bolson. We got the front seats again, but it was with a different bus company and there wasn't quite the same amount of room. We awoke to the sun rising and the terrain gradually rising into mountains. We passed through Esquel and reached El Bolson by 9:30 am.

From our first look, the town confirmed our thoughts that it would be just like home. The setting, though less grand than Canmore or Banff, was in a valley between rolling hills with snow-capped peaks just visible in behind. Noted as a hippie town, beautifully carved wooden statues and anti-political paintings adorned the plazzas and artisans were just setting up their stalls for the market. We walked the main strip to our cosy hosel, which boasted a spacious kitchen, and settled into the four-bed dorm that they rent out to couples in the low season.

We ate out for lunch, feeling that we deserved a treat after skipping a night's accommodation, and Craig enjoyed what he dubbed 'the best beer of the trip.' We relaxed for the rest of the day and were able to be up early for a day of hiking.

We'd read that it was possible to hike between some of the town's sights, La Cabeza del Indio and Las Cascadas Escondidas with a stop at the Rio Azul lookout on the way. What hadn't been clear was the fact that the "trail" to the lookout and Cabeza was actually a dirt road. This, plus the less-impressive views than we were expecting, lead to some disappointment, but it was brightened by the fact that we rarely saw anyone else. We arrived at the Cabeza and hiked the 'zig-zag trail' that once it neared the end, was carved out of the rockwall. Erin arrived at the platform first and looked back to see Craig standing right under the giant face in the rock.





We took a break and a few silly photos, then started back to the turn-off we'd seen for the waterfalls. On the way, Craig spotted a different trail that lead upwards and we went exploring for a better view.

The trail between La Cabeza and Las Cascadas was a dusty path that took us through a forest and down into a meadow. It was nice to be off the road and we were treated to further time away from other hikers. We'd heard the trails were poorly marked, but didn't have trouble spotting the markers; it was just realizing that they are posted at eye-level if you're on a horse.





We arrived at the falls feeling pretty hungry and were glad for a nice view for lunch. After eating, we scampered around on the rocks under the two branches of water and cooled off in the spray. Another blog had informed us that there's a shortcut back to town if you follow the Interpretive Trail and take a right at the unmarked path between signposts 6 and 7. We practically slid down the steep slope, hopped a barbed wire fence, and arrived in the town cemetery.

We were clearly more tired than we realized because we didn't notice the strong tire tracks leading away from the cemetary to the left. Instead, we branched right, heading towards the river where we thought we'd find a bridge. Many barking dogs did nothing to deter us from our plan, but in hindsight, maybe were an indication that we were walking down a dirt road less travelled. With a little doubling-back, we were on the right road again. We emerged at the highway and marched the rest of the way back to town with tired legs and trucks roaring past. We hoped that our next hike would get us into the wilderness a bit more so we could enjoy El Bolson's scenery.