The Argentinian lake district

So us sea fairing folk swaggered onto dry land, righted our list and left the navimag behind.

We are lured to a local town by a volcano and toy with the expense of staying in Chile for another day or two but do the sensible thing and hot tail it out of there to the Argentinian lake district.


Grassy man and wood tiled chilien house.

Goodbye quirky thin strip of land isolated from the world by the Andes.

The majestic volcano was decent enough to travel with us for most of the 6 hour journey so we didn’t feel quite so bad about our swift exit.


Bariloche

On arrival in Baraolche (ski capital of Argentina in winter season) we head 16k out of town to a campsite on a hunch it’ll be the prettiest & we aint disapointed. Our tent is pitched in the cool woods that back onto the beach, lovely!


Here’s the view


Here’s the pier

Hawks were as common as pigeons and spent lots of time flying low through the woods around our tent. We told the camp owners about a grounded baby asked if they had the equivalent of the RSPCA and they looked at us like we were unhinged. Anyway he was fine, the dogs weren’t interested and mum kept him fed so we stopped twitching and went about our business.

These chunky buff necked Ibises also grazed on the camp grounds. When they fly you hear their cute & constant honking to eachother.


Stepping out

It feels very Christmassy here, strolling down the main road that hugs the lakeside you pass all the festivly decorated wooden Swiss style chalets dwellings & shops.

While buying supplies (including a shandy lightweight knee support bandage for me) we find an English type Pub adorned with maps of all the towns the owners have visited and have the second fry up breakfast of our trip, too many tinned mushrooms but still a rare treat.





Up the mountain we go the lazy way in a cable car (I need to rest my knee), it’s bloody high.


Nope, no siree, not even slightly scared


Fantastic view though.

At the top strangely there’s a museum with very few artworks but a massive statue you might recognise.


Davids

Later on the beach we meet the owner of the campsite Won (or John, he spent some years working in Hawaii so has 2 names), he's gutting some fine Rainbow trout.
His mother was English & he offers to take us out on the lake fishing the following day to keep him company.



In the morning it’s a bit too cloudy & rainy so Dave fishes off the end of the pier, An Argetinian guy on the campsite Matius kindly lent Dave his rod of plenty. I’m glued to The Andromeda Strain by Michel Criton, he dont arf write a gripping page turner.


Sandy lakeside

Its not a swimming lake, consisting mostly of snow melt, but when the line gets caught with Matiusses favorite fly in Dave goes. He comes out pretty swiftly clutching the fly (and his plums), close to hypothermic. I’m ready with towels & clothes for the t t t teeth chatterer.

While speaking of plums Dave has just read that in Roman times if you gave an oath in court your testomony required you grasp your own testiceles.



All is not in vain, at sunset up goes a triumphant cry. Dave has landed a big fishy, which he guts surprisingly unsqueemishly and we bring it back to camp and wonder what to do with it.

Here’s the proud angler and his slippery prize…




It’s great to have such a lot of food as the campsite dogs made away with our previous supplies in the night; I hope they felt suitably ill after a whole packet of butter.

We cook it on a wood fire and offer to share it with Matius and his lady but it transpires he’s a fisherman who doesn’t eat fish, eh? We have rather too much, it’s mighty fine though.

The following day is sunny and calm so we go out with Won on his boat and set off across the lake at a gripping speed.


Matius the non fish eating fisherman, his lady and Won, oh and Dave.

It’s really pleasant out there but the fishing is a bit of a disaster as the line breaks twice, that means 2 poor fish swimming around with hooks in their mouths. Matiuses girl gets sea sick and Wan comes to her aid with spliffs (not sure that will really help but there you go) .

Apparently the Argentinean government paid a German to create a nuclear reactor there. He told them it needed to be lined with gold and they obliged ,but he just had lots of parties and then flew off with all the booty.

3 things go wrong with the boat so we get the message and head back to land and get Wan a bottle of JD for his troubles.

Off to another lake tomorrow.


Lake 2

After a 6 hour hot but cheap bus ride we arrive in Martin de los Andeas and camp right next to this here lake below. Nice place to potter about for a few days and we had it to ourselves after a busy weekend. Along with messing about on the beach we drank fine wine, collected wood, cooked our own food & got chased by a dog (calm assertive, calm assertive!).

here’s some pics…


Each pitch had its prerequisite BBQ


Champion skimmer assesses the conditions and wonders if there’s a saboteur out there


Friendly local lapwing


Fresh rasberryade possibly the best drink in the world


Town

Christmas decorations in the window but strangely it’s spring and boiling hot.


Arrrrrr!

I dreamt a girl we met in Bolivia (Lisa) had had her rabbits ear tattooed with a picture of frank sinatra. I told her it was cruel but it might look good in a movie.


Dave endeavoring to catch dinner with a stick


An angry mob


Imaginary drinks


Lago huechulafquen


We decided to head for this lake as it was rumored to be near a monkey puzzle forest, it wasnt as it goes.

Its remoteness meant we would arrive via a dirt road (worthy of Bolivia) on a Tuesday and not be able to get a bus out of there till Friday.

On arrival we had to walk for a good hour in the dust & baking sun with our full packs to reach one of the only watering holes for lunch, this is normally the type of backpacking we aviod. Fish and chips are very good even if they have us over a barrel and charge a fiver for it, its all relative you know, great setting by the lake.

It’s so peaceful here we hardly see a soul, the volcano is omniprecent and the landscape charming.


Not sure which horse is the official goalie

After walking on to the smaller lake behind we find a campsite on a farmers land and make our way down to the lake through the chickens, horses and sheep. 3 pesos (50p) to camp anywhere, no other campers, wooden toilet and BBQ its all we need.


Camp1



Dave with his morning Mate

The locals can’t get enough of this Mate drink and always beam when they see foreigners drinking it, it’s a national treasure. All over Argentina you can get hot water at bus stations etc.. They take their flask, gourd cup and a metal straw with holes in the bottom, fill the cup with the mate mix and cover it with hot water. Then you just sip till its dry. It’s a social drink and one cup can be shared with a whole group. It is just topped up with water for each person. Oddly if you say gracias it means you don’t want a turn and are missed out. I wasn’t a big fan as it was pretty bitter but Dave loved the stuff and could wax lyrical on the myriad of different flavors and textures available.

Monkey in flower


Monkey close up

While eating cheese and salami toast made on the fire we hear the sound of thundering hooves and a cowboy and several horses gallop right passed us at breakneck speed, really cool.



There’s trouble in paradise though in the form of aggravatingly persistent horse flies and we have to hide in our tent a fair bit at this particular camp. The next day we decide to head back to the campsite near the church and escape these pesky vampires.

To get over to the site we have to ring a bell and the owner rows over to collect us, this is the only way to get to the grounds.. The indigenous family that own the land have been here for generations, looks like their boat may have been too, the fiberglass bottom flexes like paper. We are rowed over by the lady of the house who has a warm walnut lined face and of course strapping shoulders.


This is not her it’s her hubby and he’s tiny, obviously not doing his fair share of rowing


Camp spot2

On the other side it’s idyllic. We have a good view of the volcano to our left. The lake meanders down the valley on our right and behind us the menagerie of animals wander through the orchard. The farmhouse sits beyond that and the mountains rise behind it. A stream of melt water feeds into the lake keeping it the wrong side of cool. It also runs into little channels all over the land to keep it green and provide drinking water for the animals.


wake me when dinners ready

After wandering around we find 2 other tents, disturb a gaggle of migratory geese and give some rutting bulls a wide birth before settling into tranquil lakeside life.


This horse really wanted to be with its friends on the other side and spent all afternoon wading into the water at different points & neighing to them, but didn’t have the nerve to cross.
We had watched horses forced to swim across but they had to be pushed into taking the plunge and pulled across the sandy ledge part, I expect this is the part they could get stuck in should they dawdle.



Everything gets across the same way, We think it charming but they really could do with a bridge.



church on the other side



So we paint, read and lay about in the sun mostly. Dave is in and out of the water like it’s a bath, well technically it is our bath, I finally muster the courage its really refreshing, brrrrrrrrrrrrrr!



It’s a working piece of land and one day we get these fellows moving inches past our tent backwards and forwards dumping a large wood pile on our beach. They eventually take the lot across the river on a small row boat to use to build a house on the other side, we give them orange pop refreshments.


Volcano in the pink

This sunset changing the colours of the volcano from silver to pink and gold was like watching a an animation of a painting, too mad to be real.

Took this barking photo when we nipped to the loo in the early hours, it was quite scary when we first squinted up, the skies falling in!!!!!

Dave limbering up for watercolor challenge.

On the final morning we meet a nice couple of Germans who feed us warm puffed up torta fritas (reminicient of donuts), they joined us on our journey back to snivelisation.

Up at the farmhouse we pay and say our farewells, one man has red wine all over his shirt and is quite obviously shitfaced, this simple lifestyle just aint for everyone.

We get rowed back by the owner who has lived there for 45 years, he’s all smiles and so are we.