Ruta 40 - Calafate to Bariloche

I thought I had “done” long journeys. Mastered them. Become the Michael Palin or Jules Verne of Argentinian travel. Then I did Ruta 40 (Route 40).

From El Calafate, the transport options north are quite limited. What I did decide on was the 2 day trip up the Ruta 40 advertised as “adventurous”. And adventurous it was, with hundreds of miles of the road not even paved. Just a gravel track. I soon realised why the trip was to take 2 days. And why the bus wasn't the usual good standard of Argentinian buses. Not even a toilet! Easy on the water Cormack.

And off we went. When I signed up for adventurous, I didn't count on the lady across the aisle from me changing her sons VERY shitty nappy. Not sure what the little fella had been eating, but it wasn't good. Thoughts of lunch quickly disappeared. The little boy however, got his lunch, and the next task was a spot of breastfeeding. Head in book for a while I think.



13 hours later we arrived at our overnight stop, Hotel Belgrano, and my first night in a dorm (4 beds) on this trip. And the last time I forget to get my ear plugs out. Things were OK until the early hours of the morning when a couple returned, obviously after a few shandies, and seemed to struggle with the concept of using a key to open a door. Then we they finally got in the room, fell straight asleep and the guy promptly proceeded to snore his bloody head off. Nights in dorms are going to be limited for me despite the heavy overhead of getting private rooms.

Day 2 and we were on the road for 8am, another 13 hours in store as we motor towards Bariloche. Today was much more civilised. No shitty nappies and a better bus. We even had a guide that spoke English so at least I knew what was going on each time we stopped. And it was today that I got my fill of empanadas. A small Argentinian snack that looks like a mini Cornish pasty. At only $3 pesos a pop (50p) I had several.



Passing through a small town called El Bolson we were well on schedule to arrive in Bariloche around 9pm. I could almost taste that first cold beer. However, just out of town we got caught up in a traffic accident. It turned out that a young girl, 10 years old, had been knocked down and killed. Not for the first time on this trip am I reminded how precious life is.

The first night in Bariloche was again in a dorm and this just reinforced my thoughts that my dorm days, in the main, are behind me. I'm running well over budget, but for me, it's about the experience and making sure that I get out of it what I want.

As we've seen, life is short. It's to be enjoyed. When the pesos dry up, they dry up. And with that in mind, I'm off for another steak.



Adios!

El Calafate & Ushuaia (Patagonia)

So it took 25 hours to get there. But boy, was it worth it. El Calafate is a small town in Patagonia that has grown from a population of 5,000 in the year 2000, to approx 20,000 now. And its growing at an alarming rate. One can only wonder at what the town will look like in 10 years. It is so remote that the “fresh” vegetables travel 3,000 kms from the north. Little wonder that you would struggle being a vegetarian here. Definitely someplace that you have to get used to not having your vegetables.

But for now, it's a very charming little town. Yes, touristy, but that's how they manage to survive, on tourism. And let's face it, Calafate is home to one of the world's greatest natural tourist attractions, Glaciar Perito Moreno. Situated in Parque Nacional Los Glaciers, the glaciar is 35kms long and 5kms wide. A breathtaking sight. All you can do is stare. And stare. And stare. And the glacier can move up to 2 meters per day which often causes large chunks of ice to break off. And when these chunks fall off you know about it. They literally crash off to a sound that's like gun fire. Standing there, watching this, is quite a moment.


I really like the feel of Calafate, so reminiscent to me of the towns on the west coast of New Zealand, places like Queenstown, Franz Josef and Westport. Rugged, remote, lakes, mountains. Beautiful. There is one main street, crammed with little boutiques, outdoor camping stores, great restaurants and quirky little cafes. If you ever find yourself here, hunt down Viva la Pepa cafe. Fantastic coffee and sandwiches that you will struggle to finish. Top marks!

So, my time was up, and I headed to the Fin del Mundo. Ushuaia, the end of the world. I flew from Calafate in to Ushuaia, a short 1 hour hop, rather than the 17 hour journey had I done it by bus, and I was soon at my accommodation, Hostal Los Calafate, more of a guesthouse than a hostel. But such a friendly owner who for the next 4 days insisted on speaking Spanish to me and calling me Frank. I did have a chuckle to myself.

Ushuaia is as far south as the roads go in the world. I've literally reached the end of the road for what could prove to be a cathartic experience.



The first night in Ushuaia I had an experience I will never forget. My first spit roasted Patagonian lamb. With the first taste I almost had tears of joy streaming down my face. Pure ecstasy. It is a Patagonian speciality with the lambs being split in two down the middle and hung over a pit fire/bbq. I ordered the lamb and a piece was taken fresh from the BBQ, and chopped off the main lamb by the chap who does the open fire cooking. So what you get to your plate is as fresh as it comes. And the taste.....heavenly.


When the waiter saw that I had finished he said “more lamb”, but in Spanish. Now, as this lamb was not cheap, and me being a backpacker, I politely declined. However, the waiter was having none of it. Claiming that I had only had a piccolo (small) portion he insisted, and I say insisted that I have some more. In rudimentary Spanish I asked if it was included in the price. I got a pat on the shoulder and in 2 mins, another full plate full of lamb. Thankfully, when the bill arrived, it was indeed complimentary, so I waddled home a very full, very happy man.

The backdrop to Ushuaia is nothing short of dramatic. It is nestled amongst 1500m Fuegan Andes peaks. A photo opportunity at every turn. And located on the shores of the Beagle Channel a boat trip is a must do experience. I went out on a trip around the Beagle, out past the lighthouse which has become something of a legendary Ushuaia landmark.



We also got the opportunity to visit a sea lion colony and several bird colonies, including cormorants. Sailing with Argentina on your left and the gleaming, snow capped Chilean Andes on your right was amazing

I'm going to wrap up today's blog dispelling the myth that I have steak and red wine every night........as you can see below, some nights I have steak baguette and beer!!

Until the next time chicos!

Puerta Madryn - Patagonia

It feels a while since we were last in touch but i'm sure it's not that long really. It just feels longer to me, having to endure those long bus rides. And not only endure the ride, but then not being sure what state my bag was in. You remember the last debacle? With the water? Well, guess what? Groundhog day, the bloody bag was wet again when I arrived in Puerta Madryn. I was a little slow off the mark learning my lesson here. Too long out of the travelling loop. But tonight, when I embark on my mammoth 24 hours combined journey, I will make sure that I put my bag on last, on top of all the others. So it's not my bag that collects all the water swishing about under the bus. That said, I was just glad to arrive. We left Mar del Plata at 9.40pm and within half an hour, the bus had trundled to a stop at the side of the road, the engine stopped, the lights went out, and with them the air conditioning. A few remarks were made in Spanish, nothing of which I could decipher. None of my fellow passengers seemed to be moving or making much of a fuss so I decided just to sit tight. And by the wonders of a bit of banging around in the engine, we were back on our way within the hour.

I have really enjoyed my 4 nights in Puerta Madryn. A seaside place with a great feel to it. The first day was spent doing laundry (the wet bag left me with wet clothes) and investigating the town and beach. I did a great walk along the coast, amongst sand dunes, finding perfect isolated spots to rest and sunbathe. The second day was a shock as I awoke to massive thunderstorms and a wet day where I just mooched around town cafe hopping.



Day 3 was a great little tour to the Punta Tombo reserve, home to the largest penguin colony outside of Antarctica, some 800,000 of the little buggers just running around, seemingly having the time of their life. We were able to walk right amongst them, providing some brilliant photo opportunities. Not since Philip Island in Melbourne had I seen so many penguins.

On the way back from the reserve we also called into the little Welsh town of Gaiman. Yes, I did say Welsh. It's one of the little oddities of Patagonia that there are still pockets of Welsh villages with Welsh speaking locals. A hangover from when the Welsh first settled Patagonia all those years ago. A very odd experience, calling into a Welsh teahouse and seeing all the Welsh pictures, flags and teatowels hanging from the walls. It was a long day all in, but a very enjoyable one.


On the last night in the hostel I had plans to go out for dinner to a Mexican that I had found. However, I soon found out that there was an asado planned that night. An asado is a traditional Argentinian BBQ so I was definitely up for that. And it was a great night. As much steak, sausages and salad that you could get down your neck. Washed down with copious amounts of Malbec. Even the cheap stuff tastes good. There was a good crowd of us from the hostel, a mix of English, Dutch, Brazilian and Argentinian having the BBQ and it turned to be a lot of fun.

The Argentinians were kindly passing round one of their favourite alcoholic drinks, Fernet with coke. Now, don't ask me why they started drinking this as Fernet is from Italy, but they sure like to knock back a lot of the stuff. I tried the “with coca cola” and it wasn't unpleasant. And I also tried a shot of the stuff on it's own that I am sure would have done me more good had I had a very bad chesty cough!



And now, I say goodbye to Puerta Madryn and begin the long trek further south. I'm heading to El Calafate, home to one of the largest glaciers in the world. Should be good, when I eventually get there! A 17 hour overnight bus to Rio Gallegos and then I need to get another bus from there which will be another 5 hours. This is one hell of a big country, ha ha.

Mar del Plata - the Atlantic Coast

After a great 6 days exploring beautiful Buenos Aires it was time to take this show on the road. And with that I headed off on the 5 and half hour bus journey down the coast to Mar del Plata, beach playground in summer of the Portenos (Buenos Aires residents).

I was wondering when I would have my first mishap on the road and it happened on arrival in Mar. Nothing major you understand but when you are tired, hungry, thirsty and just arrived in a new town not knowing where you are, little things take on a greater magnitude. So when I recovered my bag from under the bus, flung it over my shoulder and started looking for a taxi, I thought it odd that I had water dripping down my leg. On closer inspection it turned out that my bag was absolutely drenched. There must have been a leak under the bus. When I got to my hostel and unpacked, everything was wet. And I mean wet. So much so that I could actually wring water out of my clothes. For the next 2 days it would be a race against time to dry them out before repacking.



First impressions can often be deceiving, and so it was with Mar del Plata. My first look around, albeit i was tired, I was struck by how much it was like Blackpool, but with much more glamorous sun-seekers. However, after a good nights sleep, and heading away from the beach front, I was struck by how quaint the town is. Suburbs that are very reminiscent of something you would see out East in Sydney, like Bronte or Waverley. Beautiful little houses, well kept gardens and great corner cafes where I was able to get my café cortado fix.





I had a great, but very very long, walk along the coast and down to the port. Here there was a sea lion colony and further along, advertised as a tourist sight, a statue of San Salvador. I'm glad I made the trek, if nothing else it burned off a few of the beers that I have been getting used to, but in terms of tourist sights, it wouldn't rank near the top. A poor man's version of Rio's Christ the Redeemer.





All in all, I have enjoyed Mar del Plata, great beaches and a very welcome diversion from the hustle and bustle of Buenos Aires. But my time here is almost up. Tonight I leave on the night bus for Puerta Madryn, my first port of call in Patagonia. Think of me as I endure the 17 hour bus journey south. Some consolation can be had in the quality of buses. The seats are gigantic, very comfy and actually recline flat so you can sleep on them. You even get little snack packs like on an aeroplane. Hopefully I will arrive in Patagonia refreshed and ready for whatever is in store for me there.

Chau 2010, Hola 2011

So, a new year dawns in Buenos Aires. After noisy firecrackers, but somewhat muted celebrations we are left wondering what would we change about 2010 to make 2011 an even better year. I'm not one for resolutions, too clichéd i'm afraid, but I do take the time to reflect on the past year. Much of this is possibly due to my birthday being so close to the year's end, providing a perfect opportunity to set my stall out for the following year.

Sat in a very quiet Plaza San Martin I've been reminiscing on the past year's events and the milestones this new year is going to bring us. I hope it brings all of you a very happy 2011.

Back to what's being going on. Where were we when we last spoke? If my ageing memory serves me correctly I don't believe I had yet sampled the famed Argentine beef. Let's start there.



You can not come to Argentina and not try the steak. Even if you are a vegetarian. Seriously, it's THAT good. Just close your eyes and pretend it's Tofu. You will not be disappointed. I had “bife de lomo”, otherwise known as tenderloin. With papas fritas and a half bottle of Malbec. Let me reiterate that point. Malbec. One the the world's great reds was the house wine. Oh man! It doesn't get any better than that.

The last few days have seen me traverse the city on foot, covering what feels like every inch. Coffee in San Telmo, beer in the redeveloped port of Peurta Maduero (which has a Hooters, but less of that!), lunch in upper class suburb of Recoleta, people watching in the gritty, but oh so colourful neighbourhood of Boca, and people watching on the Avenida Florida.





In the few days that I have been here I feel that I have really got to know the city, where it's heartbeats are. That said, I will be happy to be moving on in a couple of days. BA is a city that lends itself best to couples. The sensuousness of the tango and the romance of sharing a bottle of Malbec. This solo traveller needs to be making tracks, and on Tuesday I start my long journey south, stopping off at the beach resort of Mar del Plata for a couple of days to rest up.



I will leave you with the only funny anecdote so far. And it refers to my bed and what could possibly be the slippiest mattress in the world. Now, there is no cover on it, it is just a very slippy mattress. So much so, at approx 1:30am this morning, I was woken from my slumber as I had slid out of bed and crashed to the floor, waking with a start and wondering where the hell I was!

Ha ha, that's what you get in backpacker hostels. Till the next time, adios!