From Hippie to Gnome!

pictures:

http://www.flickr.com /photos/brianandkim/sets /72157603279102869/

http://www.flickr.com /photos/brianandkim/sets /72157603274988414/

     Our final destination on our week of freedom was El Bolson. It was rumored to have fabulous trekking, and our guidebook called it 'As close as you can get to Berkeley, California in South America.' Apparently there are a ton of dirty hippies, and a craft market a couple of days each week. We rolled into town once again, just in time for siesta, but the craft market was going on strong. I think that craft markets are pretty universal in that there are a few cool things, but mostly a bunch of crap. Anyone can pitch a tent, call themselves an artisan, and sell their junk. Here, most of the junk had Gnomes painted on it for some reason. There were booths upon booths of things that were interesting, and got even more interesting after we had had a big liter of the locally brewed beer and an empanada. The handmade wooden toys and puzzles were the coolest, and we couldn't figure a single one out. Yes, our brains are that small.

The teenager at the information kiosk was really helpful, and we got a vague map of the hike that we wanted to do. Much to our surprise, and contrary to our experience in the lake district, the second and third days of the trek were closed due to snow!! This is a popular hike to a place called 'Cajon de Azul.' The road to get there also holds many 'tourist attractions.' Of course, then it makes perfect sense that this road is unmarked!!! We finally found it, and drove, and drove, and drove. We came across a small hand painted sign that said 'to route 258' and thought, aah, we've taken the scenic route. Luckily there was a small convenience store/campground and the lady told us that we had just missed the turnoff. 'It will be obvious,' she said. Just go another 6km. Thankfully she was pretty accurate with the distance since this road too was unmarked. C'mon gringos, it is not camping season yet! Campgrounds are closed. It is too cold to be outside. . .

The road to the trail head can only be conquered with a 4WD vehicle. (and then I'd think that it was iffy) A store with a restaurant and 'hostel' offered parking for just 15 pesos per day. The guy inside of the store was pretty scary looking, and informed us that we were too late to arrive at the Refugio and camping that night, and that all of the campsites at the true trail head were still closed. We could always stay in one of his rooms though and start out in the morning. Lucky for us, there was also a nice shady spot on the side of the road that didn't say ´no parking,' so we decided to do what freeloaders do best.

Having not learned our lesson in Choschuenco that convenience store owners usually have pretty accurate beta, we packed our 'essentials' into our packs and started out down to the trail head. We arrived 30 min later and found that in fact, the campground was deserted. There were a couple of guys clearing brush, so we inquired about pitching our tent for the night. He said that he wasn't the owner and so he couldn´'t give us permission to stay there, but if we just crossed these two rickety bridges, and walked a bit, we could do some illegal camping in the woods. Dusk was near, and by this time we were pretty hungry, so we headed for the bridges.

If you have been reading our blog, or looking at any of our pictures, you may have noticed the high quality of construction, and superior safety standards that they have here in South America. These bridges were another fine example of 'safety first' construction. The sign warned that a person crossed at his own risk, no more than one person on the bridge at a time, and no more than 150kg. We worried for a second about Brian and his huge pack, but then remembered how many kilos he's lost and extra holes he's had to punch in his belt since we arrived. Being the gentleman that he is, he let me cross first. Suspension foot bridges swing. Especially when one is in the center and there's a breeze. Balance has to be combined with speed when carefully picking your way over missing, cracked, and outright broken planks as the river rushes over the huge boulders below. Exhilarating. The first bridge was just a warm up for the second though, and I let Brian be the guinea pig on that one. Safely on the other side of the bridges, we scurried up a steep embankment and made camp for the night. Dinner was a disaster as all the garlic fell out of the pan on the transfer into the pot of pasta that had congealed together in a single lump. We've certainly had better, but we were starving. We were also scared that we were going to get busted for illegal camping and thrown into Argentine prison. It didn't help that we realized we hadn't told anyone where we were going (sorry families) as images of the scary mostly toothless convenience store guy and scenes from Deliverance danced through our heads. We survived the night, and packed up and hit the trail in record time that morning!

The other thing that we had neglected to do before leaving was check the weather. Drip, drip, drip went the rain as the sky tried on multiple occasions to open up on us. The trail went up and down for four or five hours, and finally we reached an impossibly steep slope that seemed a much better option than climbing the handmade ladder balanced on the edge of a rock with a 40 meter cliff on the right. I thought that was scary until I got to the summit and had to cross some exposed rock, ending in a descent down another ladder held to the rock with some bailing wire. This is where I lost it, sat down, and cried (real tears) that I couldn't possibly go on. Brian saved the day, and took my pack down so that I could have a safer descent. Obviously I made it in one piece.

The sky was looking more ominous by the minute, and 10 minutes later we crossed into an orchard filled with blooming apple and cherry trees, dotted with grazing sheep and horses. We had arrived at the Refugio Cajon de Azul! A kitten that looked (and acted) just like Really Lucky Eddy ran out to greet us.

Inside the Refugio the owner and his daughter had a nice fire going in the wood stove where fresh bread was baking, and they offered us a mate. Mate is an obsession in Argentina and southern Chile. It is drunk out of a small hollowed out gourd through a metal straw (bombilla) with a sieve on the bottom. the cup, or mate, is packed to the brim with mate herb, and hot water is poured over it. Everyone walks around with big thermoses of hot water to keep pouring over the herbs. We had heard a lot about mate, so we figured what the heck. On first sip, it was hot and pretty foul tasting. Sugar helped, but we wondered how we were going to get through 500ml of hot water. Amazingly, it got better the more we drank, and wow, is it caffeinated!

We set up the tent listening to the calls of a lost sheep, hoping to the powers that be that he found his herd, and started making lunch as the rain came. The owner, Maestro, took pity on us and invited us to use the Refugio for free. This place was pretty incredible. It was a huge log cabin heated by a wood burning stove which also was where all of the food was cooked and baked, and over which clothes were dried. Hot water for showers was also heated in a barrel with a fire under it. The best part about it though (aside from a hot shower after 6 days of camping) was that Maestro brewed his own beer. We spent the afternoon out of the rain playing cards as more and more people arrived at the Refugio. By the end of the afternoon, you couldn't see across the room from all of the cigarette smoke, so we retreated to our tent out in the cold and the rain. The cats had the right idea though. they all piled up for warmth in a big cat pile. We've never seen anything like it before, but it was pretty cute.

The hike out was easier than expected, and just before the last difficult haul up the 4x4 only road, a family with 2 small kids was pulling out of one of the campgrounds and offered us a ride up the hill.

Our car was still on the side of the road with all of its tires, and the rain had even given it a bath! Back to el bolson we drove, just in time for siesta. We managed to find an open ice cream shop and fed our faces, and then we hunted for an economical hostel. Well, we found economical, but dive is a more accurate name for it. I suppose we shouldn't have expected much for 40 peso per night, and it did have fabulous hot water. . . I think that it was an old man's hangout because when we registered, the most recent birth date in the ledger was 1968. All men with the exception of the lady in curlers and a mumu who let us in when we got back from dinner after midnight.

At dinner, we made the mistake again of ordering a parillada--the mixed grill contained 2 small pieces of steak, a couple of fatty ribs, blood sausage, sweetmeats (i don't really know, and don't really want to know), and kidneys. They pretty much all tasted as nasty as they looked. The stray dogs that we fed them to afterwards seemed to like them though. It was an interesting dinner. Packed into the tiny seating area were a distinguished-looking old Argentine couple, a lone American lawyer, a couple of Swiss girls, and a table of 4 almost middle-aged Argentine men. Everyone was drinking fairly heavily, and bottles were being passed back and forth between all of the tables. The lawyer was chatting everyone up, the men were trying to convince the Swiss girls to come out to the bar with them afterwards, and the man of the old couple was making frisky gestures and comments at all of the ladies including his wife. It was quite a laugh. Around 11-30, a mentally retarded guy about 40 years old came in, and started making his way around the tables. He really seemed to like all of the ladies, but it was Brian whose ass he slapped! It was an entertaining meal to say the least!

In the morning, we kissed the mountains goodbye, and made our retreat back to Bariloche. We had missed the last bus out to Chile for the day, so we booked one for the following day, and decided to take advantage of our last 7 hours with private transport. We took a Sunday drive through the lakes and mountains surrounding Bariloche stopping to take a siesta before coming across an acapella choir who had stopped alongside the road and were singing hymns at a lookout with views of lakes and mountains in the background. It was a pretty cool thing to stumble onto, and dang, could they sing!! On the way back, we stumbled into a brewery, and had some fantastic beer--a rarity in South America. We made our way back to the hostel just in time to return the car, and thanks to the dust and the dusk, the car guy didn't notice the new scratches on the fox. It was time to head back to Chile and try to find some kayaking before we went to Patagonia!

wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org /wiki/El_Bols%C3%B3n%2C_R %C3%ADo_Negro