Tuesday, February 18, 2025

Day 16 - Argentina 2025: Torres del Paine

When I came to Argentina, 25 years ago, I could not visit the Torres del Paine Massif, so I made it a goal of this trip to reach this monumental mountain, come what may. It is in Chile, so I could not drive my rental car there (plus I had the impression that getting there was very difficult), so instead I booked a guided tour in a 4x4.It is going to be a long day, with pick up at 6:30 am and drop off at 10 pm. Once the pickup vans brought us to the starting point, I stared in awe at our expeditionary vehicle, which seems something out of Mad Max. A 10-wheel Mercedes Benz behemoth that sits probably 30 people, it seemed capable of going up walls. Everything I had imagined and more. So we roll out on our heavy vehicle, for what I thought was going to be rough terrain; alas, no, we just went down highway 40 for about 300 km, during which we strived to see as much wildlife as we could (kind of difficult in a desolate landscape swept by strong wind).

We saw several herds of guanacos, which unlike llamas or alpacas, have thin hair except at the scruff of the neck where a little wool gathers. Under the heavy wind that wool gets ruffled, given the heard the aspect of a gang of punk teenagers. The other interesting animal was the choique or lesser rhea, which is a small type of ostrich that is difficult to spot because its curved back mimics so well the rounded shrubbery. We saw two or three groups, and in them there were a lot of babies, locally called choritos. Apparently eggs hatch in November, so the young birds must have been a couple months old.

After following the highway south for 300 km we cut to the west on a dirt road to pass through immigration control by Argentina, got in the bus and went along the same road for another 5 km and went into Chile, and after immigration we were finally ready to come into the Torres del Paine National Park. The massif is an isolated mountain mass, roughly circular in outline. It has a diameter of about 12 km and rises 2,700 m above the level of the surrounding lowlands. There are some large lakes around its perimeter to the east, that for some curious reason don't drain to the sea (to the west the glacier valleys are fjords where the Pacific has encroached into the land). Because they are "closed" lakes they are slightly salty and alkaline, conditions under which water snails cannot live. This has resulted into conditions favorable for the formation of stromatolites (sub-variety trombolites), where cyanobacteria build disorganized mounds of calcium carbonate along the shore.

The rocks around the lakes are thick sequences of black shales, nut unlike the Mesozoic Pierre Shale and the Devonian Marcellus Shale in the United States, where fracking has allowed the development of large natural gas resources. Apparently the South American black shales are found all along the back-arc portion of the Andes, and farther north, near Neuquén, have been fracked to yield large amounts of natural gas. 

Ah, there it was, the Torres del Paine in its whole glory, as seen from the east. To the north, the torres are three enormous spires formed by light-colored granite, which are very distinctive because the rocks that surround them are black. Panning to the south you see that the flank is formed by the same black shales I had seen on the way in, and looking even farther south, you see "The Claws", where smaller spires of granite are capped by black jagged rocks. For the rest of the day we circled the massif clockwise (we actually only did one fourth of a circle), and as we did so more exposures came to view and the whole geometry of the massif became clear. I believe that what we have here is a high level intrusion that "ballooned" its way up through the black shales but never broke to the surface. As it intruded it caused contact metamorphism of the shale to transform it into a highly resistant hornfels, so the massif was encased on a hard shell, like an overcooked muffin or a Baked Alaska. Later, as the Andes continued their uplift, erosion of the soft shales around it isolated the hard massif, which during the last glaciation was dissected by glaciers to create the distinctive chiaroscuro landscape of the mountain. Supercool!

Day 15 - Argentina 2025: El Glaciar Perito Moreno

I have decided to book a guided tour to the Perito Moreno Glacier, and by 9 am was waiting for my tour mini-bus, eager to check another glacier in my bucket list. To begin with, El Calafate is a nice looking town, perfectly adapted to receive tourists. With 30,000 permanent residents, it has become the place of entry to the Parque Naacional de los Glaciares. A calafate is a short spiny bush, with a rounded profile to best withstand the incessant winds that blow from the Pacific, over Chile, and then sweep down across Patagonia. It has a small purple berry (like a small blueberry) that is very popular for jams and candies. 

The town is at the downstream end of Lago Argentino, which was named as such by Francisco Perito Moreno himself, when he observed the light blue waters of the lake, the snow-clad mountains behind it, and the cloudless blue sky above: Light blue-white-light blue suggested to Moreno the Argentinian flag and hence the name of the lake. From the air the lake has the shape of a giant squid, moving to the east across Patagonia. The "tentacles" on the upstream end are fed by creeks and several glaciers, and eventually join to form the bulk of the lake, which is the third largest in South America (after Titicaca and Lago Buenos Aires). But going back to the "tentacles", one of them forms a loop, partially blocked by the Perito Moreno Glacier. Imagine the letter ć, where the c is the loop and the accent is the glacier. Upstream of the glacier the lake is called Brazo Rico and downstream from the glacier it is called Canal de los Témpanos. I will come back to this bit of geography after I tell you more about the ice field where the glacier(s) originate.

You all know, of course, that the big ice sheets of our time are Antarctica and Greenland, but you may not know that the third largest ice field is the Southern Andean ice field, which is 370 km long, 35 km wide (an area of about 12,500 km2), and feeds more than 150 glaciers. The ice field is enriched every winter by the abundant snow that falls after the moist Pacific air rises over the Andes. This same air drops and heats up down into Patagonia, where it scavenges moisture to form the Patagonian desert. Many of the glaciers have retreated over the last 100 years, but the Perito Moreno Glacier has actually extended and retreated several times over the same time period. For example, when it was first visited (not by Moreno) the glacier was nearly a kilometer back from its current front, then it lurched in the first half of the 20th century, then retreated in the second half, and then lurched forward again between 2004 and 2020. When the glacier advances it cuts the "tentacle" lake in two, so the upstream lake has no outlet and its stage rises against the ice dam, by a good 10 meters; the pressure of the water eventually breaches the ice barrier and a spectacular break takes place. One that was caught in video was the 2004 breach. You can watch it in YouTube is you search for:
                  Rompimiento glaciar Perito Moreno 2004

I was enjoying the panoramic view of the glacier, which is about 5 km wide and 30 km long, when an Andean condor went gliding parallel to the white/blue face of the glacier. What a magnificent flyer!

I acquired a lot of this lore by sitting on the rock mass against which the glacier abuts when it closes the gap, watching in awe as big slabs of blue ice spalled off the front of the glacier. First one hears the roar of the ice breaking and then, with any luck, you see an ice avalanche extending all the way to the water. Things are too fast to whip up the cell phone and take a picture, but I tried and tried. It is easy to become obsessed. In some instances some of the floating icebergs loose a big piece (probably the size of a house) and become unbalanced, so the whole remaining thing flips over, and the blue ice in the bottom breaches to the surface, as if a giant blue whale had just surfaced for air. Ultimately persistence had its reward, and I caught in video the calving of a big prism of ice, 20 or 30 meters tall. It created a big splash and a beautiful mini-tsunami!

The day had been sunny and crisp, and I could have stayed there for hours, but after my moment of glory a freezing drizzle started falling with increasing intensity. I was not ready for rain (or for extreme cold), so reluctantly I climbed up from my viewing perch and joined many other wet tourists under the very limited canopy provided by the park for precisely this eventuality. Damp but happy I declared the day a rousing success! 

Day 14 - Argentina 2025: Los malditos 73 kilómetros

Today is a big driving day: 650 km from Perito Moreno to El Calafate. I started at 7 am, a bit late because I thought I could squeeze a detour to the Cueva de las Manos, 100 km down the way. This is a magic prehistoric site, where the Native Americans painted numerous images of guanacos, and then proceeded to obliterate them with stencils of their hands, not unlike the ones found in Southern France. But there are hundreds of hands one on top of each other! Was this the work of a single hunter who every day "put his hand over the guanaco" to propitiate a successful hunt, or was it an annual ritual by the whole tribe to ask for a good hunting season? This is harsh country, so any help from the Great Spirit would certainly be welcomed.

Mind you, there are plenty of herds of guanacos milling around, but unlike their cousins the llamas they are very much wild skitterish animals that have not allowed themselves to be tamed. One has to be careful driving, because a running guanaco crashing against a fast moving car would lead to a tragic accident. To top it all, the wind is howling, and one has to be very careful while driving.

And driving I did. Miles and miles of it, driving to lonely magnificent landscapes, that in turn reminded me of the Basin and Ranges, Northern Mexico, and Mongolia (but unlike these places, where you see signs of humanity every 50 km or so, here you are alone and feel like the only person on Earth). It is a spectacular landscape, however, so being the last human being would not be that bad at all ... until you meet los malditos 73 kilómetros of route 40! Mind you, this is Argentina's backbone highway, but for jarring 73 km it turns into the dirt road from hell. Covered by coarse gravel, it goes on and on until you feel your teeth are coming out of their sockets. Of course there are no road signs of any type, so you don't know where it starts, or if this torture will continue for 300 km to El Calafate, so it is like being caught in The Twilight Zone, with no hope of getting out. And then, for no good reason whatsoever, after 73 km it is replaced by a magnificent highway that would make any motorist's heart sing.

Finally I made it to El Calafate. I am quite tired, but my lodgings for the next four nights are nice and very welcoming. I even have a bathtub!

Day 13 - Argentina 2025: Parque Bi-Nacional Patagonia

I have had a humbling day, in which I, but a tiny human being, have been awed by the grandeur of the surrounding landscape. The folks here in the region have been working for years to have their surroundings named a national park, partly for conservation purposes and partly to attract ecotourism to the region. Finally, in the last couple of years, four or five separate areas received national park status, and the cluster of these areas is what here is called the Parque Bi-Nacional Patagonia. It is quite commendable that Argentinians and Chileans worked together on this matter, so the unofficial borders of the park extend across both nations.

At the core of the park is the enormous Lago Buenos Aires, which is twice as large as Lake Geneva. The lake cuts across the international border and extends deep into Chile (where it is called Lago General Carrera). The lake has undoubtedly been shaped by glaciers, but it is fairly deep (400 to 450 m), so it likely started like a tectonic graben that cuts across the Cordillera. Why would that be? Well, if you look at a plate tectonics map of this part of the world, you will see that due west of the lake is the triple junction, where the Nazca, Antarctic, and South American plates meet. In the parlance of geology is where a spreading ridge meets a subduction zone, so a shallow graben could well be the expression of the subducted oceanic ridge. Personally, I think that to the south the triple junction breaks into a transform fault that extends to Tierra del Fuego, but I may be the only person who thinks so.

The scale of the lake, the Andes, and volcano-sedimentary apron to the east is hard to grasp, so I just drove the first 100 km of a 500 km loop, stunned by the complexity of the rock units exposed in the mountain front. Here and there I felt pretty confident I could see stratigraphic relations, structural deformation, a volcanic neck, or a hydrothermally altered pluton, but for the most part I had to shake my head, thinking of the poor geologists who had to map and make sense of the colorful puzzle confronting me. Oh, and those mountains are high, steep, and stern, and I am convinced that to entice them to yield up their secrets will require  lot of walking and detailed mapping. Maybe I should bring my Field Geology class here (cackle, cackle, cackle). 

Day 12 - Argentina 2025: Esquel a Perito Moreno

Today was the first of my long drives, so I started fairly early in the morning, just to waste one hour following the wrong road. Rats! I used to pride myself on a sixth sense that warned me when I was going in the wrong direction, but I am afraid that is one of the abilities that is eroded by old age. Eventually I backtracked and got on the right road, and happily traversed the green foothills parallel to the mountain range, enjoying the brilliant green colors of the surroundings. And then the vegetation became gradually sparser and drier, and it started to feel more like driving through the high desert of western Nevada.

After 100 km I came to a town, whose name I cannot remember, and picked up a hitchhiker. Candela Rocío Simoné, last name Coronel, is a slender young woman who was going back to her home in Comodoro Rivadavia, along the Atlantic coast. She could have been one of my students, but in contrast with them, who hardly speak, this girl spoke incessantly in the most colorful accent and with the most confusing vocabulary. I had to strain to make sense of what she said because she used so many "young" expressions (e.g., "dow" to express "wow", or "nosotros somos guanacos" to mean that "we youngsters are easy going"). I felt that over the following three hours I got a personalized class in the way the new generation of Argentinians think and speak.

The wind was picking up as I drove farther south, and Cande warned me that the road was full of potholes and slow going. She was not kidding. It is not the worst road I have driven, but it is pretty high on the list. Plus the wind was howling by then, lifting enormous clouds of dust and tossing the car sideways. It now felt that I was traveling through central Nevada, hot and dusty. Eventually we got to the road intersection where my new friend had to get down, and I feared her slender form was going to be carried by the hurricane-strength winds. I waited until she got her next lift, and from there continued on my way south.

Shortly thereafter I picked up a young gaucho, with saddle and all. He is a cowboy at one of the estancias, and gave me all sorts of info about life out in the range. He works a 20 days on/10 days off schedule, but sometimes they work straight for months to build up some savings. Looks like fun work, looking after 1,500 heads of cattle, except when it is -15 degrees C and a meter of snow covers the ground. He is also father to a baby boy, and I am not sure his wife is happy when he stays for months out at la estancia. After dropping him off I kept a firm hand on the steering wheel, countering the buffets of the wind, for an additional 150 km to the town of Perito Moreno. 

The town is named after Francisco Moreno, an Argentinian explorer, surveyor, and diplomat, who traveled extensively through Argentina and Chile, and in 1896, was appointed as Perito (expert judge) to the Border Commission to solve the many disputes existing between Argentina and Chile regarding the precise location of the international border. As Perito he guided the different teams of engineers and surveyors who marked the border, and afterward was elected to the House of Representatives, where he made important contributions to education, economic advancement of the remote regions of Argentina, and creation of the national park system. He is much respected by Argentinians and Chileans alike.  

Once I got to my lodgings I found out that I was not expected for another day and there was no place at the inn. However, my young host, Mauro, got busy making phone calls and found me at room at Vicky's (there is a whole network of places to stay that is not unlike what I found in Cuba, where one person will put you in touch with an aunt, or a cousin, and in this way you get bounced back and forth until eventually a place is found). Vicky is a welcoming old lady, who cheerfully opened her arms and her house to me, so I was able to cook myself a nice full meal while enjoying some great conversation. I am as remote as one can be, and tomorrow I will once again drive to the mountains to glance at the towering majesty of the Parque Nacional de la Patagonia.

Day 11 - Argentina 2025: Parque Nacional Los Alerces

I am slowly coming to the realization that, as much as I hate the added fees my bank charges, I have no option but to use my credit and debit cards, rather than my rapidly dwindling stash of cash. The trick is to make large purchases, rather than 3 dollar purchases, because large or small every transaction will cost me US$ 10 when I return home. So I am going to run the card until I am down to fumes before I fill the tank. I have 3/8 fuel tank right now (3 bars), and that should be enough to get me to the Los Alerces National Park, 35 km away according to Google.

Off I go then, to go back into the mountains and explore the park. 35 km later (and having lost one bar on the fuel gage)  I got to the entrance to the park, where I was welcome as a jubilado and waved in without having to pay a single peso :)  What I didn't know, however, was that the visitors center was an additional 35 km into the park. It was a very pretty drive, but I could see the scars left by a forest fire a few years back, in the form of dead and ghostly trees surrounded by a green carpet of shrubs and baby trees. Driving over a moraine I found a lovely lake, and from then on the lakes followed in quick succession. In fact, it is the abundance of lakes occupying glacial valleys that earned the region the status of national park. When you look at them on a map it is puzzling to think how the valley glaciers moved and joined with each other. From the visitors center I learned about a few walks, and the devastating news that the third one, which was one of the main attractions, started at a point a further 35 km into the park. Really? Did a mad mathematician obsessed with the number 35 plan this route?

The first walk brought me to small cliffs where the Tehuelches drew some pictograms of "hourglasses", bolas, and zig-zag geometric designs, for who knows what purpose. I should find myself a cliff and draw something so it can be admired hundreds of years from now.

The second walk was to a pretty waterfall, but not a very spectacular one.

The third walk was longer, and it was called the Lahuán Solitario or the Lonely Alerce, and as soon as I started along it I realized that so far I had not seen a single alerce in the Parque Nacional de Los Alerces. Indeed, after 40 minutes of walking a sign called my attention that here, right in front of me, was an alerce. Now that I look at it I believe that it is a type of sequoia rather than a pine tree. The one in front of me was a mere 300 years old, but deeper into the park one gets to a grove of Fitzroya cupressoides where El Abuelo is 2,600 years old, 2.20 m in diameter, and 57 m tall. Alas, you need to go up one of the lakes in boat to go visit grandpa.

Did I mention the large amount of lakes. They are magnificent, and of a water clarity that lets you see 10 m into their bottom. The lakes are interconnected by narrow channels, where the water moves with astonishing rapidity. As I remind my students, steep creeks seem to have very fast water but their actual displacement velocity is low because of the turbulent flow. The channels connecting the lakes have very low gradients, so the water moves in laminar flow, which allows it to move at a high velocity. Contemplating the lakes and their interconnected channels rekindled my interest in physical limnology (i.e., the study of bodies of fresh water, such as rivers and lakes). I think I should buy myself an alpine lake.

On the way back I was freaking out about the second bar in the fuel gage, which so far had been holding steady. Would it last me for the 105 km back to Bariloche? Almost! I was 40 km short of my goal when the second bar disappeared, a yellow icon of a gas pump lit on, and a highlight unequivocally showed me that I was now in my very last bar. No problemo. Once I reached the gas station, however, there was a long queue of cars waiting to be serviced by the two pumps that were in operation (out of 8 islands in what was a perfectly modern gas station), and only one attendant to serve them both (like in Oregon, in Argentina you have to wait for the attendant to pump your gas). Patience, Little Grasshopper. OK, done! Now I have a full tank and tomorrow morning I can start on the 550 km drive to Perito Moreno.

I still had daylight to burn, so I went for a walk through "downtown" but it was pretty dead. It is a bit warm, but to the locals it feels very hot so they stay indoors. Besides, Argentinians are denizens of the night, and I am sure the place will be hopping at 10 pm. I did see some devoted souls shopping at a supermarket called La Anónima (actually a pretty large chain here in Patagonia), and I was pondering about the queer name (The Anonymous), when I recalled that during the European expansion into Patagonia, there was a private-government venture called "Sociedad Anónima Importadora y Exportadora de la Patagonia" that was in charge of coordinating the work of the different estancias or haciendas, for the production of wool and meat for export, and the import of the merchandises needed by the pioneers. 

I have been reading the book Martin Fierro, which is really a very long poem written in the style used by the gaucho raconteurs (a bit like cowboy poetry). It is a combination of a poem and a chant, told as the gaucho plays an air in his vihuela (guitar). You have to read it with the characteristic sing song in mind, and with an Argentinian accent, for it to sound right. Fortunately when I was in my teen years there was a famous gaucho singer, Atahualpa Yupanqui (1908-1992), who was super popular in Mexico, so I am very familiar with the style and have been able to enjoy myself enormously reading this masterpiece of Hispano American literature.

Day 10 - Argentina 2025: Bariloche to Esquel

Another pleasant day. I left late, at 9 am, and had an easy drive of 300 km to Esquel. I picked up a total of three hitchhikers, so I had good conversation for at least part of the way. About 50 km outside of Bariloche the road plummets from the high foothills to the low foothills following a deep gorge (I am of course thinking on the way back, imagining heavy traffic, and had to conclude that I will have to spend my last night in Bariloche and not in El Bolsón). The landscape is spectacular, ranging from the high elevation alerces forest to patchy clumps of pines and broad expanses of scrub grass (not unlike what you would see coming down on the east side of the Sierra to Bridgeport and Mono Lake). 

I stopped at the Museo Leleque, which is a small but informative collection about the native people of Patagonia (the Tehuelches in Patagonia proper and the Onas in Tierra del Fuego). South America was colonized by people coming from Asia and North America about 13,000 years BC. The Tehuelches were hunter gatherers that used paleolithic technologies for their spears and knives, but they developed the bolas as well, and were efficient hunters of ñandús (the South American ostrich) and guanacos (a plains-dwelling camelid cousin of the mountain llama). They came in (peaceful) contact with the Europeans in the 17th century, and by the 18th century had been displaced north and mixed with the local tribes and the Araucanos (coming from Chile), to give rise to the Mapuche people, who were famous for their war spirit and sometimes violent relations with the European pioneers.

After crossing many mesas and rolling hills covered with scrub grass I finally made it to Esquel, a comfortable small town that reminds me a lot of Bishop, California. I have rented a small apartment for a couple of nights, and tomorrow I will visit the Parque Nacional de Los Alerces. I have found that spending at least a couple of nights at every place gives me enough time to soak in the vibes of a place much better. For example, since I have a full apartment I went to the supermarket and bought some basics so I can have dinner at home. 

Day 9 - Argentina 2025: Cerro Tronador

I had a very happy day, but I am beginning to realize that traveling in Patagonia is like traveling in Australia: Long distances and lots of dirt roads. So I get to drive a lot and then try to "mark" important stops by taking a short walk or meditating for a few minutes about the beauty of a place before I need to move on.

My first stop was at Cerro Catedral, which is probably the place to be during the ski season but is pretty sparsely populated during the summer. They do have a funicular, but they have to work on their pricing structure (no discounts for seniors :( and no small hikes once you get to the top). I thought it was pricey, so I just walked part of the way up following one of the tracks and called it my hike for the day.

Then I came to the entrance of the Nahuel Huapi national park, where I was presented three options: Foreigner US$ 20, Argentinian US$ 7, or retired Argentinian Free. So I had to ask what the price was for a retired foreigner, and the young man asked me where I was from. "Mexico", I responded. "Well, can you talk like an Argentinian?" "Seguro, Ché" "Bueno, US$ 7 ... and please remember to talk like an Argentinian while you are inside the park". Gotta love it.

The main attraction of the park (in addition to its many lakes) is Cerro Tronador, a big turtle of a mountain covered by glaciers. I wonder if the name Tronador, or rumbling mountain, come from ice falls sloughing off the glaciers. Trying to climb it is way above my current pay grade, so I felt satisfied with admiring it from the distance.

The other attraction is the Cascada de los Alerces, which is at the end of a 16 km dirt track that starts with about 500 m of a narrow steep upgrade. There is a weird rule that says that cars are allowed in the inward direction from 13h00 to 17h00, and in the outward direction from 18h00 to 20h00. Most people (including me) seem to ignore this rule, but I had at least one sanctimonious driver shake his head at me while tapping his watch. The alerce is the South American pine, and the waterfalls are reached through an easy walk through a lovely forest of alerces. The waterfalls are nice, although not spectacular, but the Rio Manso has the distinction of being the only river that starts on the Atlantic side of the Andes but turns and cuts through the mountain range to go empty into the Pacific. Its gorge must be spectacular!

This is the end of my tourist phase, and I am going into roadtrip phase. As I said before, Patagonia is vast, so tomorrow I will drive to Esquel, 284 km away, where I will spend a couple of nights, before moving forward to Perito Moreno (550 km) and El Calafate (650 km). And then I have to get back to Bariloche in time to catch my flight to Buenos Aires and from there back home.  

Day 8 - Argentina 2025: El Circuito Corto

Today I was the perfect tourist ... well, the perfect tourist on car. There is an 18 km circuit, El Circuito Corto, that is very popular with hikers and bicyclists and takes you to some pretty views and charming coves, as well to every possible tourist trap you can imagine. The highlight for me was the funicular that takes you to the top of Mount Otto, from which you command great views of the big lake and the tall mountains in the background. I did a bit of walking around the crest of the mountain, which is formed by tilted sedimentary rocks, and got some spectacular photos of the surrounding landscape.

Afterward I kept following the circuit and eventually got to La Colonia Suiza, a "historical" town established in 1899, where I expected to find all sorts of cute Swiss chalets and locals wearing Lederhosen. Nothing of the kind. I didn't see a single chalet but instead was assaulted by the sight of endless kitchy tourist shops and restaurants, each pretending to offer traditional Swiss wares and dishes. To top it all the "streets" were dirt tracks and the cars kicked endless clouds of dust.

The circuit weaves between peninsulas and small islands, so there are plenty of opportunities for walking down to the beach, or taking a stroll through the forest, and somehow I managed to entertain myself until the mid-afternoon. On the way back I picked up two young French women who were celebrating their wedding with a six month trip that had included 3 months driving around the United States, 3 weeks in Argentina, and 3 weeks in Chile before heading back to Nantes. 

I believe I have by now exhausted the sightseeing potential of the area, but I have another day left of my stay, which I will use to explore the area to the southwest (again to the border with Chile), and afterward I will change gears into exploration mode and head south to the heart of Patagonia!

Wednesday, February 5, 2025

Day 7 - Argentina 2025: My beginning incursion into the Andes

I am having a lot of problems with an unstable internet, so I may change these notes to a list of names of places and brief mention of interesting events, which I will develop at a later time for the actual blog. It is a pity indeed, because I am now at the core of one of the great mountain ranges of the world, and everywhere you look there are enormous craggy ridges, deep glacier valleys occupied by impossibly blue lakes, elegant volcanoes, and a broad diversity of geologic units.

Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi. Bariloche stands at the right edge of the vast Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi, which extends all the way to the crest of the Andes and the border with Chile. It is a "European-style" national park, probably closer to the American version of a national forest (a land of many uses). 

The gigantic Lago Nahuel Huapi occupies the bottom of two (or three) alpine glacier valleys that join together at the very center of the national park. Its shores are dotted by many formal camping resorts and I am sure hundreds of informal campgrounds where the 10 million bonaerenses who fled the capital have come to lounge by the shore, fish, and basically soak lots and lots of nature. A special variety of tourist has come with their bikes, and loaded with tent, sleeping bag, fishing rod, and all the other accoutrements are heading for their favorite fishing holes. These are tough hombres y mujeres, who defy death carving a lane for themselves at the sides of the narrow highway, plus a topography that only mountain bikers would dare to tackle. No, I didn't see any e-bikes among them.

Fold-and-thrust belt and abundant moraine deposits. The rich conifer forest gets in the way of the fast-moving geologist, but some of the jaggedness of the mountains appears to be related to resistant sandstones exposed in the tight folds of the fold-and-thrust belt of the Andes, although I also see plenty of intrusions and black rocks that could be metamorphic in origin. Covering the whole thing are thick moraine deposits loaded with granitoid boulders. I am having many flashbacks to the Canadian Rockies, New Zealand, and the high Sierra Nevada. I am trying to soak it all in, and have even stopped here and there to take a picture or walk along a stream, but there is nothing like being here to capture the grandiosity and overwhelming beauty of the mountains.

Villa La Angostura is another of those alpine cities that has been transformed by tourism into a colorful set of shops and restaurants that cater to the needs of the transient tourist population (including anglers during the summer and ski and snow enthusiasts during the winter). The area north of La Angostura is called Los Siete Lagos, and even though the lakes are smaller than those at the south, they are very scenic and apparently attract a lot of the more humble tourism that finds the shores more conducive to family camping.

On my way through I saw I could turn left and come to a border crossing. Chile is here so close and yet so far because I cannot take the car across the border (like I blatantly did 20 years ago). From here it would be a short trip to Puerto Montt (at the northern end of the Chilean archipelago) and to the island of Chiloe, which I remember well for the fabulous seafood and an incredible variety of potatoes (the island is one of the places where potatoes might have been domesticated in deep pre-historic times, although Bolivia claims that it was in their altiplano that domestication first took place).

At some point past Los Siete Lagos I entered the Parque Nacional Lanin, which is more arid and less populated than Nahuel Huapi. The geology also changes, and you see many more volcanic rocks. The main town is San Martín de los Andes, at the downstream end of the glacial lake Lago Lácar. The town is nice and not as "loud" as Bariloche or La Angostura, perhaps because the tourist crowd is a lot thinner here. The landscape is dominated by the looming form of Volcán Lanin, which is a beautiful symmetrical andesitic stratovolcano.

Leaving San Martín I caught the end of the working shift, and was happy to give a ride to two ladies, who were going home. They work at a resort hotel and were going home to Junín de los Andes 20 kilometers away. I love picking up people to keep me company, and always learn something new about the folks or the land. After I dropped them off I picked up a guy, who was working construction in the area, but had formerly worked as a hunting guide in one of the estancias. Apparently this place is popular with wealthy hunters seeking a red deer, and they pay extremely generous tips to their guides (US$ 2,500) when they bag their prey.

By the time I dropped him off I was a good 160 km from Bariloche, coming into 6 pm, and I had to put in a burst of speed. Along the way I saw some thick unwelded Ignimbrites, abundant air-fall tuffs, and beautiful cross-bedded deposits of pumice sand dunes (they were too thick to be pyroclastic surges). This would be a fabulous place to do some volcanic stratigraphy.

I was 15 km short of Bariloche when I picked my last set of hitchhikers. They were a young couple of Uruguayan doctors who had taken an Uber to some caves developed in volcanic rocks (some story about the caves being formed by steam blasts), but on the way back they had not been able to call an Uber back, didn't have the card needed to ride the buses, and were facing a three-hour walk back to town! I have been in that position and have given many thanks to the kind people who rescue a stranded hiker.

Day 6 - Argentina 2025: Bariloche

I got to the national airport with 3 hours advance time and the place was a zoo. I had noticed that for being such a large city Buenos aires didn't feel crowded; the reason, of course, is that all families are in vacation. Many must have departed as soon as school let out, and the rest were starting in Epiphany and won't come back until school comes back in session in February. And many of them are heading south to the mountains, so the flights are full. But I checked in without problem and, once I had my boarding pass safe in my pocket, I told the lady that I wanted to lodge a complaint and ask for a refund for my other flight. With a condescending smile she told me that I had to do that through their app, which in reality means I was screwed and they would give me the run around until the end of time. Time to go zen and let it go.

I landed in Bariloche at 15h30 and half an hour later I was driving the 24 km to my lodgings in Bariloche. I was warned that there are all sorts of radar traps for speeders, and that one must pay for parking in Bariloche either through the app (arghh) or by locating one of the orange vest parking people. Big Brother is watching!

My lodging is in Posada del Ñireco, along the Arroyo Ñireco on the east edge of town. It is a modest room in a beautiful large house that caters to vacationing families with expansive lawns and relaxing spaces and away from the main action of town. I needed to get some basics, so I drove to the town, paid for an hour of parking, and used the time to have a very fine dinner. Afterward I stopped at a supermarket, bought a pocket knife, and came up with a plan for wandering in the surrounding mountains and lakes for the next three days. Unfortunately I am not allowed to cross into Chile with my rental car (which in 21st century fashion has a GPS chip so Big Brother can watch me), so my plan of weaving through the border will have to be retooled. 

Downtown Bariloche, which 20 years ago was a quaint and beautiful Alpine town, feels today more like Incline Village at Lake Tahoe, clearly catering to urban tourism during the summer, and skiing in the winter, which makes for a lively main street. It was the place to exchange dollars to pesos, and once again I walked out of there with a roll that would make a gangster pat his coat with satisfaction. It is scary how fast I am burning through hundreds of thousands of pesos.

Day 5 - Argentina 2025: Uruguay

I have to be at the ferry terminal at 7 am, so I woke up at 4h29 to give myself plenty of time to get there. At exactly 4h30 (yes, 4:30 am) my phone pinged with a new email message. It was Aerolineas Argentinas (AR), letting me know that they had changed my flight to Bariloche, tomorrow morning, to depart from the international airport (30 kilometers away) and departure was at 4h30! I was stunned. What do you do on Sunday at the wee hours of the day, when some stupid AI algorithm screws you up? I went to the AR website to change the flight, but of course the website was not working. Then I went to Expedia and got into a chat with an agent (or another AI), who after asking many questions decided it had to call AR, only to find out they don't work on Sundays. So now AR has joined Volaris in my shit list of lousy airlines. I ended buying a new flight, and I better be at the national airport (which is within the city) early to get a boarding pass and pointlessly fight for a refund on the original flight. Grrr!

Buenos Aires has a limited metro service, which is unfortunate, but has a vast bus network, which I am now quite adept at using. There are no published schedules or route maps, but most of the drivers are helpful at directing you this way or that, and you rarely have to wait for more than 15 minutes to catch your bus. Of course, you are taking your life in your hands because most drivers are daredevils, and sitting in front is both a prime sightseeing opportunity and a thrill ride. In any case, I made it to the ferry terminal on time, and two hours later I was on my way to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, which is across the enormous width of the Río de la Plata from Buenos Aires.

Colonia del Sacramento was a Portuguese settlement going back to the times of the Tratado de Tordecillas, when the Pope divided the world into a Spanish half that included most of the Americas (except for Brazil and most of Uruguay), and a Portuguese half that included Africa and India, as well as the bulge of Brazil. Colonia del (Santísimo) Sacramento was thus at the edge of the two halves, and was a place of struggle that changed hands between the Portuguese and the Spanish many times, until Queen Mary I from Portugal decided that it was a useless "gibraltar" or knoll of granite not worth spilling blood over, and gave it to the Spaniards. It is a quaint little town, with an old historic center, lots of tourist shops, and a handsome riverside boulevard and beach that attracts many locals and tourists. I cannot claim to have really seen Uruguay because I was there just for the day, and on foot, but collected enough of the lore of the region. For example, this part of Uruguay grows grapes and olives, and is proud of their grape variety (tannat), which yields a tasty wine rich in anti-oxidants that is consumed by the adults and children alike as a fortifying tonic, one spoonful in the morning and one in the afternoon. It must be effective in maintaining good health, because this region boasts the largest number of centenarians anywhere on Earth. Just last year five people celebrated their 110th birthday!

The crossing back to Buenos Aires was uneventful, but this time I put a lot more attention to the colors of the river. The water is laden with silt and sand, so the base color is brown, but here and there one finds emerald patches of vegetation, probably rising from shallow banks. For all it is wide, the Río de la Plata is not very deep (at an average of 4 meters deep). I thought perhaps it had a deep channel carved across the continental shelf, but looking at Google Earth the continental shelf seems to be wide and featureless. The heavy load of sand and silt reflects the abundance of Pleistocene loess deposits on the banks of the estuary (most notably the low hills where the city of Buenos Aires has developed--incidentally, the city proper has 3 million people, but the mancha urbana extends to a population of 13 million).

Well, it is time to go fight with AR. Hopefully I will have good news on my next communication, from the city of Bariloche.