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.
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