It was difficult to tear ourselves away from Hostel El Descanso after just 1 day. It’s aptly named – just a very peaceful place to hang out and pass the time. However, the creaking and play in El’s bottom bracket had reached unignorable proportions so we knew we’d be stopping again in Bariloche to sort that out, just a couple of days further down the trail. Taking 2 rest days just before we’d be stopping again felt like a luxury too far! Thus, it was with some regret that we pedaled away alongside the Rio Meliquina.
As we’ve got used to in this part of the world, every stream and river we pass is crystal clear, so much so that it feels like we’re now taking them for granted! We stopped for a few minutes to explore a cave created by a large boulder overhang, before tackling Paso Cordoba.
We stopped at the top to take in the views, along with a couple of cars which had driven up, before dropping back down, stopping for lunch at the first river crossing we came to. From there, the road follows yet another beautiful river (it was now past swim o’clock so we made full use of it) until you join the 237.
Being on a busy road used by trucks was a shock to the system and a stark contrast from that morning’s riding. The wind was also picking up, so we put our heads down and battled into the headwind to get this section over and done with as quickly as possible. We did see a couple of guanacos next to the road though, which was our first sighting of these animals since leaving the Puna. Hopefully we’ll see a lot more of them further South.
We celebrated crossing the river and leaving the tarmac at Villa Llanquín with a pint and a half of rather nice beer. Along with Grido Helado ice cream, the availability of cheap, artisanal beer in Argentina is winning us over to this country. Whether it was the beer or just the euphoria of not having trucks whizzing past us any longer, we nonchalantly decided to freestyle it out of town instead of following the gpx track. This got us a lovely section of riverside singletrack, but also required lifting the bikes over a locked gate to get back on route. The beer definitely didn’t help with that bit.
After a couple of sharp, steep climbs and another locked gate, we pulled into the riverside camp spot marked on the gpx track. It had been a surprisingly long day – just over 90km – which, considering the time spent swimming and drinking beer, we were pretty pleased about.
We reached Bariloche the following lunchtime with El needing to sort out 3 things: new bottom bracket, repair sandals and, long shot, buy new shoes. We lucked out with the first, coming across a bike shop with a very good value bottom bracket and who would let us use their tools to install it ourselves at no extra cost. In fact, it was such good value that I also changed mine at the same time, since that had also started to develop some play. The sandals were sorted shortly after, leaving only the question of new shoes.
After a few rounds of the main outdoor shops, we decided to park that question for a day and head a bit further West to the casa ciclista, where we had arranged to stay. Though not before a visit to another brewery for beer and pizza (it is called the beer trail, after all).
Run by Esteban (nickname Coco), the casa is a typically laid back affair, with camping in a partially finished geodesic dome. Coco was clear that he expected us to join in with communal dinners and not just keep ourselves to ourselves – easier said than done when dinner time is 11pm or later here in Argentina! It was definitely a shock to the ol’ body clock accustomed to the early bedtimes and early starts of life on the road, but when in Rome. Joking aside, it was great to chat with Coco, who has a very interesting back story and many tales to tell of the travelers who have passed through his place. As a carpenter, he had an impressive shed/man cave at the bottom of the garden and helped us clean our stove, which had been misbehaving ever since a batch of dodgy petrol bought in Fiambala.
We headed back into town the following afternoon and, to both our amazement, managed to find a pair of shoes for El that fit the bill and weren’t a complete rip-off. We were 3 for 3 in our tasks and could chalk this up as a successful and worthwhile detour (the route doesn’t actually go through Bariloche itself).
We set off at lunchtime the following day (no one stirs in the casa until at least 11am) towards the airport, hoping to cut off a corner to rejoin the route. Some lax navigation on my part meant we turned right a hundred metres before we were meant to and pedaled obliviously up the wrong valley for the best part of 15km before I realised my mistake. The map showed that there was a way to rejoin the route if we kept going, although it seemed to head very close to a number of estancias identified on the map. The question of right of way is a tricky one in these parts as a lot of the minor roads that you see on OSM maps are actually on private property and gated. Sometimes these are unlocked, but often they are. We decided to risk it and press on.
At our second estancia, Estancia Lucha, we did find a locked gate, although it was so easy to get around (there was an obvious path) that we assumed it was just there to stop cars, rather than motos/horses/bikes. Past this, we entered a wonderful valley with crazy rock features to our left and zero traffic, thanks to that gate. Our “mistake” had turned out to be a good one!
We camped that evening by a bend in the river Pichileufú (upstream from the spot marked on the official gpx track) which created a deep channel, perfect for a swim. It had been a very hot day – neither of us could remember the last time we had sweated so much. The only downside was that the riverfront was crawling with biting ants (indeed, there were a lot of ants at the following night’s camp spot too – some regional thing?) although, further back, where we pitched our tent on some grass, it seemed a lot better.
The next morning, the excellent double track continued as we made our way slowly back towards the official route, hoping to join at the POI marked “Road to Bariloche”. Things got a bit vague at one point, but the road marked on the map tallied reasonably accurately with reality and we were hefting our bikes over a locked gate and back onto the official route just before noon. Back on a good dirt road, our progress picked up again as we ventured ever further from civilisation. The landscape reminded us a lot of the rolling hills of Mid-Wales, although obviously much, much drier!
We camped at the river between the two passes, before tackling the second one in the morning. Even at 9am it was hot and we knew we were in for another scorcher of a day. Although we could still catch glimpses of snow capped peaks behind us, ahead it was only pampa and the desertic planes of the Patagonian steppe. Another unique environment in this land of contrasts.
We dropped down past the abandoned Estacion Fitalancao, a remnant of the old narrow gauge railway affectionately nicknamed “La Trochita”. Looking around, it’s no surprise that these stations and most of the line itself are no longer functional – we were literally in the middle of nowhere!
We plowed on into the ever strengthening headwind to the small town of Ñorquinco. There’s not much to the place – it’s the sort of town where the local shops have hitching posts to tie your horse to – but some sleuthing got us a huge plate of chicken milanesa and chips at the only restaurant in town. Winning! We decided that it was futile to try and go any further that day and spent the afternoon relaxing in the town’s barbecue area come municipal campsite. If you can’t pick your battles and take the afternoon off on a year-long tour, then when can you!
El Maiten was an easy 35km spin away down the road the following morning. What might have been a rather uninteresting stretch of the route was greatly enlivened by bumping into David from Germany, who had just completed the same section of route as us on horseback. He’d bought a couple of horses in Bariloche and was planning to ride all the way down to El Calafate, if time allowed. After saying farewell on the road, we met back up again in El Maiten as we resupplied and tried to find some lunch. Over ice cream, we discussed the differences between doing this sort of trip on bike or horse, even if we were doing the same sort of routes. It’s quite a different proposition when your mode of transport has a personality and needs watering and feeding every day! We had to admit, there was a strong romanticism to traveling like a gaucho through gaucho country.
From El Maiten, we had a couple of route options to pick from. Either head back west to the mountains and Parc Nacional Los Alerces, or head more directly South whilst continuing to follow the La Trochita railway line. While we’d heard of some horror stories of the traffic and dust within Los Alerces, the promise of cooler temperatures, shade and lakes to swim in won us over in the end. We plowed West once again into the now-familiar afternoon headwind, waving the white flag at Laguna Mercedes. Another primo lakeside camp spot to add to our tally.
The following day began with a solid stretch of tarmac as we dropped down to Ruta 40, rode it up past Epuyen, then turned off on the 71. Once on the more minor road, the traffic eased and we were able to appreciate our surroundings of snow-capped mountains on three sides. Tourist hats were donned as we visited the cabin built by Butch Cassidy and his gang after they fled to Argentina in 1901. The main cabin was still in remarkably good condition – clearly having been well looked after, despite the total lack of any tourist information or infrastructure – and what a location!
We stopped for beer, cake and a mooch around the official museum which is 100m or so down the road from the cabin. From there, the views just kept getting better and better as we headed down the valley.
We resupplied at our last opportunity before entering the park in Villa Lago Rivadavia, before going off in search of a camp spot identified on iOverlander. This was very close to the park entrance and would allow us to get as many miles into the park as possible before the traffic picked up late morning. The spot was described as being down a “steep hiking trail” – just how steep we hadn’t quite reckoned with! Any steeper and we would have required ropes! We left the bikes hidden up by the road and tentatively made our way down by foot with our food and overnight kit. It was totally worth it though for the empty cove we found at the bottom. The beach wasn’t quite big enough to pitch our tent, but we leveled some of the shingle into a space to lay out our mats and cowboy camp.
The wind dropped down almost completely overnight and when our alarm went off at 5:30am, the lake was still. We passed through the park entrance just after 7am, not seeing anyone at all. It felt like we had the place to ourselves. Our stressing over the traffic and dust now seemed totally misplaced. There was no one else on the road, just us, the trees and the occasional peek through gaps in the forest to the lakes and the snow capped mountains beyond. We felt sufficiently relaxed that we took the time to ditch the bikes and hike up to the mirador overlooking Laguna Verde – a totally worthwhile 30 minutes, since the road is so often surrounded on all sides by thick forest.
What had been a wonderful day’s riding, even more so given our initial trepidation regarding the traffic and dust, took on a sour note when we passed the beginnings of a forest fire just before noon. Firefighting helicopters and planes shuttled to and from it with water and the flames looked to be reasonably under control. However, the winds picked up significantly during the afternoon and by the time we were exiting the park through the Southern entrance, the view behind us was dominated by huge billowing smoke clouds. Clearly the fire had escalated significantly as the wind picked up.
As I write this two days later, the fire has massively increased in surface area and dominates the horizon, blanketing the Trevellin valley with smoke when the westerly winds drop overnight. There’s talk in the press about it threatening the towns of Esquel and even Trevellin if it isn’t brought under control in the near future. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that the winds drop and that it rains soon so that the fire doesn’t spread any further.
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So much water!