Time to finally hit the road after a month in El Calafate and El Chalten. Have to admit that we leave El Chalten with heavy hearts. Beyond the natural beauty of the place, we have enjoyed its easy pace, the hosts we’ve had, and the joy of being outside for weeks on end—even with the ever-present Patagonian wind and the pesky flies on the trails.
Time now to see the classic Patagonia as we ride 13 hours north on the dusty gravel road that crosses a stretch of truly emptiness. It’s considered an epic ride…
The bus leaves punctually at 9am, stops where it meets the actual ruta 40. (El Chalten lies about an hour off this main artery). The two drivers who work this stretch announce that there will be only a few stops, the first of which features an actual bathroom. There is no toilet on the bus, so to take this into account…. There is no real food until the third stop at about 6:30 in the evening, when we stop at a small roadside hotel. The El Calafate passengers pile onto the bus and we’re off—although this first hour is on asphalt—a luxury that soon becomes a dream—.
Stop one is Tres Lagos. Hmm. Not a lago(lake) to be seen, and in fact, beyond the gas station and small kiosk cum café, it seems an ominous beginning. Several of us note that the drivers are messing with some gizmo checking(?) the tire pressure, while about 10 steps away, a mechanic is lying under a car hammering and tinkering. All this with the gasoline issues, namely there is none to be had, and so drivers are ending up stranded, waiting for new fuel deliveries—apparently a union/contract negotiation issue that regularly recurs during the height of Argentina’s summer holiday season. The drivers assure us this won’t be an issue for us.
Everybody back onto the bus and we’re off onto the incredibly dusty dirt road north. It’s hot, but windows are impossible to open, basically crusted shut with dust, so until the top hatch is finally opened for a brief respite, most people are dozing. A few are nibbling on crackers or cookies. Occasionally we see guanacos which are like llamas, but slighter and a brownish coloring. This is the Patagonia one visualizes: endless vistas of scrub and rough growth, rocks, sandy soil, and immensely blue open skies. A dirt track leading nowhere. It’s starkly beautiful in places, but almost inconceivably empty.
A woman approaches the bus driver and manages to convey her need for a bathroom stop, for which he kindly pulls over. Several others bound off the bus after her, relieved to have a pit stop behind some scraggly bush. Later we pass a huge nameless (for me) turquoise lake, edged on the far side by craggy rock hills. People are now digging into their various “meals”—mostly sandwiches-- as the bus bounces on. Mists of clouds descend on us periodically, drizzling and streaking the already filthy windows, and blow further south.
Another scheduled bathroom stop comes near a river. This one is clearly a necessity for all! The women rushed down from the roadside to a grove of squat willow-like trees, and honestly the scene was out of a film… In every hidden nook women were making use of the natural bathroom facilities, while on the other side of the road, men were doing the same. No time to think of anything or anyone, just to relieve yourself! Five more minutes to stretch legs, and off again.
Late in the afternoon a large rhea(an ostrich-like bird) came charging across the road—rather a treat. We pulled into Bajo Caracoles, which pretends to be a town, with a hotel—and purportedly REAL bathrooms—but, alas, they weren’t in working order. So another quick dive behind a bush or a wall, staring out at the unending landscape.
On to the final stop for most people, the small town of Perito Moreno. Here most people got off the bus, staying at the Hotel Belgrano, which doubles as the bus station, as tomorrow most will continue the road trip for the second long leg up to Bariloche—another 12 hours or so—luckily mostly on asphalt. We pull into a local gas station after this drop-off, now to fill-up the bus for the return journey it will make the next day.
We continue due west with the sun slowly setting over the mountains behind the immense Lago Buenos Aires, pulling into the small town of Los Antiguos at just about 10:30pm. With the help of the drivers we found the small hotel where we had managed to make a reservation with a great deal of difficulty, and headed straight to bed.
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