BARILOCHE

Our bus headed west from the coast out into the Patagonian nothingness. Dusty dunes turned into low flat scrub land and eventually as night drew in mountains began to rise up in the distance almost indistinguishable from the night sky. It was mid morning when we arrived in Bariloche, the capital of Argentina's Lake District. We had driven through a few light snow flurries earlier in the morning and as we disembarked we knew we were not by the seaside anymore. Bariloche looks like a picturesque village you would find on a chocolate box in Switzerland. Wooden chalets in all shapes and sizes are dotted around the little town centre, on the banks of Lago Nahuel Huapi, a massive vivid blue lake surrounded by mountains. The whole town is surrounded by white tipped mountains. In winter Bariloche becomes a booming Ski resort but with summer approaching and the snow line reseeding, people swap ski poles for trekking ones and hit the trails. 

We only took two pictures of the town one of the clock in the town centre and one of the Madres protest art. If you google Bariloche i'm sure you will find some quaint postcard images.

My ankle was still pretty tender so we decided to spend a lot of our time here taking it easy, doing the laundry and researching the next part of our journey south. With a few multi day treks on the cards we had to make the call on whether to buy a tent and all the trimmings or rent one. It quickly became apparent that if we were back in Europe it would have been cheaper to buy everything than rent, but the prices round here are ridiculous and what you could get was fairly poor quality. We settled on a cheap stove that was on special, two head torches and a pair of socks. At least with renting we wouldn't need to lug a tent round the rest of South America. In this town most of the shops open from 9am till 1pm then 5pm till 9pm. This kept catching us out as we weren't up and out till twelve-ish then by five didn't really fancy shopping. Speaking Spanish does not mean you are entitled to a siesta Bariloche, when the thermometer gets over 30 degrees round midday then maybe you have deal. Now let us in and show us your cheapest tent... is there a discount for cash?

To get my foot moving again we went for a few small day hikes. The first turned out to be about five hours of walking in the Llao-Llao peninsular, a forty minute bus ride away along the edge of the lake. We got dropped at the end of the bus line by a little harbour and outside Hotel Llao-Llao, one of Argentina's most famous hotels. We stuck our noses in for a look.

Llao Llao peninsular
Our plan was to walk the road that connects the last stop of bus 20 on one side of the headland to the first stop of bus 10 on the other. Lots of side trails wind away from the little road up into the hills or down to the lakesides. Our first trail lead us to the banks of a beautifully tranquil lake at the foot of some snow capped mountains. 

The second trail lead past a tranquil beach and through some little yellow lanes, then us up to the top of Mount Llao-Llao standing at 1080m. We got talking to a man from Rosario (a city in the north), who hadn't been back here since he left school 30 years ago. He said he saved up all through secondary school to pay for the traditional end of year trip that many young Argentinians embark on after graduation. It seemed fitting that we should find ourselves here after finishing our Spanish school. Having established we were now in the Newquay of South America I was glad the majority of students were still in class. The view from the top over the surrounding lakes was breathtaking, as was the walk up.

We hiked back down and across the rest of the peninsular, eventually making it to an inlet called Bahia Lopez and went in search of the bus stop. The owner of a small hotel tucked away in the corner informed us we had missed the last bus but if we got a wriggle on we could catch one in half an hour 2km away. We made it to the bus stop bang on half an hour and waited, and waited then with night drawing closer, decided that perhaps we had missed the bus and had better start trying to hitch a lift. The first few cars sped by, but one soon stopped, and just as we were getting in the bus appeared from the hillside. We awkwardly thanked the driver for his generosity and flagged down the bus.

Cerro Campanario
Another short hike this one only about half an hour each way is to make your way up Cerro Campanario, another small mountain just outside of town. If you're feeling lazy you can take a ski resort style chair lift for a tenner to the summit or if you are preparing for a big trek you can walk up through the woodland. It was steep, hot and confusing, but after about twenty five minutes we reached the summit and joined the gaggle of tourists for a hot chocolate and a photo. 

Like Quijote
Due to infrequent bus times (the bus down to El Chalten only runs every other day) we ended up spending an extra night at the hostel. It's called Like Quijote and is a lovely friendly place. The couple that run it were brilliant and put up with our attempts at speaking Spanish. Whilst there we met a lad called Ricardo who was traveling in South America and was working at the hostel for a few days. Most days we exchanged tips and stories about where we were going and where we had been. He was one of those people who made you want to be a better person as he had such an infectious positive outlook on life. We said to each other we should try to be more like Ricardo, both of us knowing we probably wouldn't manage it after he mentioned drinking less. On our last night all the staff and their friends gathered for a big family meal of homemade tacos. It was great to spend a night getting to know all these people using a mixture of broken Spanish, broken English and broken charades. We are going to miss this place.