Having previously wanted to see more of the country by road (plus reduce carbon emissions and potential flight damage to bikes), our first plan had been to take a long (i.e 27 hour) bus journey from BA to Bariloche. However, our bikes would have had to go by cargo (the other side of the city to the bus station) so reluctantly we had decided to fly. Luckily from the window we were able to see some of the salt lakes of central Argentina, before they disappeared amongst the clouds.
Although assisted by the hostel owner’s son, Santiago, in his vintage red pick up truck and soundtrack of Pink Floyd, we had imagined that Bariloche would be the equivalent of an alpine town next to a the National Park of Nuhel Huapi and alongside the large lake of the same name. Unfortunately, the proximity of the latter two features, and lack of planning control, has resulted in a larger town/city than we realised. Bariloche is the premier destination of international tourists who come for the trekking and to ‘sample’ Patagonia, as well as BA riche who come for the good local chocolate, beer and, possibly, trekking. The latter option was out of the picture on the first few days of our time in Bariloche as the parks were closed due to very strong winds, which turned the lake into a surf-strewn seashore. We felt sorry for some of the people we had met in the hostel, particularly the American ones with their limited leave, who hadn’t managed the climbing they had saved and hoped for.
The bad weather did though mean that we didn’t feel we were missing out on much during the days of bike unpacking and building, money obtaining, and mobile phone reception sorting we had in front of us. These chores were assisted by the nearby cervezeria (beer pub) La Manush that offered a wide range and cheap selection of craft beer with delicious local butter trout. We also managed to have fondue with Olivia, coincidentally who had been at Cambridge at the same time as Hannah, and whose rowing captain was from the same home town. She also had the stories of what it was like to be a child of a diplomat in Chile during the Pinochet crisis. Lincolnshire seemed very benign in comparison. With itchy feet to start cycling we were very glad when the weather cleared to the more usual January climate of sunny days and light winds, perfect cycling weather.
Aiming for an early start on the first of the good weather days, we got up at 7.45am for a quick breakfast before all the other hungry mouths arrived. Unfortunately it turned out all the hungry mouths had had the same idea, it was also Leo’s day off, and his female counterpart seemed a little overwhelmed at serving bread, scones, cake, cornflakes, jam, cream cheese, coffee and tea to 20 hungry backpackers all at once. Nonetheless we were fed and watered by 9, and set to the task of packing our panniers and rucksacks for take-off.
We knew it was possible to cram the 60 kg of gear into 8 panniers, 2 rack bags and bar bags, but this hadn’t factored in the week’s worth of food we had ended up acquiring over the last few days, which was now distributed loosely across various carrier bags in the kitchen. In the end we settled to shoving these (professionally) into the tops of our rack bags, which now drooped over the end of our racks to an alarming degree. But against all the odds we had somehow managed to get everything onto the bikes, in an upright position. All that now remained was to move our array of cardboard into the storage area promised by Leo, and we would be off. This might have been easy had Leo mentioned it to his Senora but it seemed this hadn’t happened and the Senora was adamant there was absolutely no room anywhere for any of our boxes. A lengthy discussion in terrible Spanish/English followed, with little progress, until at last Hannah thought to mention we were aiming to cycle to Ushuaia. At this point Senora broke into gleeful laughter, and remembered a small place where they might possibly be left. She took us upstairs and pointed to a 10 foot vertical steel ladder bolted to a wall with a narrow crevice at the top. “If you put up there and I cannot see them, it will be fine”. Hannah, being lighter, and more catchable by Robbie than the other way around, was sent up first to investigate. She looked into a small room with a single bed and a little built-in cupboard, which looked like it might just be big enough. Getting into the room required clambering over a knee-high balustrade, via a step which was now dangling by 2 rusty and very loose bolts. Apparently longer legs were required to bypass this step, so we duly swapped places on the ladder and after a little gymnastics, Robbie took up his position in the loft garret, Hannah promising she would be back with the boxes shortly. She returned in 3 trips with all our boxes and packing material, and Robbie managed to shove it all into the little space. It wasn’t entirely invisible to the naked eye, but looked rather tidy to us. Senora seemed to be distracted/to have lost interest, so we returned to our bikes and boldly made for the exit. 4 hours after getting up, it hadn’t quite been the flying start we had hoped, but we were very excited to be underway.
Hostel Justina sits on the brow of a hill in all directions, so (with no other option) we sensibly decided to test our bikes, brakes and packing by immediately cycling steeply downhill. Robbie also decided to test his emergency stopping skills by turning immediately out of control into a parked car, whilst Hannah tested her toppling skills by immediately tipping over. Having passed these tests, we decided it might be more sensible to walk our bikes down the initial slope, and embark more carefully on flatter ground. This time we were much more successful and made it a full 20 metres before finding that both our handlebars were shaking quite disconcertingly from side to side. We duly investigated and found that Robbie’s front rack was completely loose. Hannah’s issue was less obvious but we realised likely related to the considerable combined weight of our first aid kit and tool box. Tool box was moved to the only available space in the rack top bag, and first aid was redistributed. Remarkably this worked fairly well and we now both had some steering control.
We had decided to do a test run on the Circuito Chico, a route through the national park to the west of Bariloche. According to Bicycle Patagonia, we should go a little west before turning south for El Bolson anyway. Circuito Chico was renowned as a beautiful cycling route, and was close enough to Bariloche that we could hobble back to the bike shop in town if needed. The presence of numerous craft micro-breweries along the route was an added bonus. To get to the circuit, google maps suggested we go immediately to the lake-side road and head west. But we thought this main road might be busier so we would try initially on going west a few blocks inland to avoid traffic. Whether the traffic was trying to do the same thing we don’t know but the leafy suburban streets were by no means quiet, whilst also being narrow, lined with parked cars and extremely hilly. Lulled into a sense of breezy confidence by the first few gentle downhills, the first uphill came as an extreme shock. We both pedalled for 10 m before having to dismount and walk the next 100m uphill. Wheezing like heavy smokers after the second 100m of pushing, google suggesting much more of the same if we continued inland, and a steady flow of cars passing by in bemusement, the lake coast road suddenly seemed much more sensible, and we slowly braked our way steeply down to the bottom. By 1pm, we had covered approximately 1km.
On the first sunny afternoon for 5 days, the lake road to Llao Llao was bumper to bumper with cars, but with wide gravel verges this was OK for us to get our first taste of proper cycle touring in Argentina. Views across the lake to the snow-capped mountains beyond were really beautiful and though there was a fresh breeze blowing from the northwest, the road seemed remarkably sheltered. We cruised along at 12 km per hour on the flat, passing by cabanas and backpackers waiting for buses or trying to hitch lifts. Only occasionally did we have to veer out into the road to pass some parked cars or a bus stop, and with the traffic thinning out, it was easy to find a gap.
11 km on, cycle touring was feeling pretty easy and the map said we should turn left off the main road on a short cut to take us to Colona Suiza, the location of our planned campsite for the night. This road was unpaved and the first taste of the infamous ‘ripio” dirt track everyone talks about so much. It was also a bit uphill, and whilst we had to slow down, it didn’t feel too bad. Yes passing cars churned up some dust and the odd passing bus spat gravel at us with even more dust, but the first km was OK. Unfortunately we both through caution to the wind and said exactly that out loud to one another with no wood to be touched anywhere nearby. Exactly 1 minute later, Hannah’s rear wheel hissed abruptly to our first flat tyre of the trip. A hot, unshaded, track with dust-spewing 4x4s passing by every minute wasn’t the ideal practice point, but we set to the change and a mere half hour later had managed to replace the inner tube with a spare despite its unwillingness to sit properly in the tyre. As well as being chief photographer, Hannah had proven herself to be the very capable chief mechanic of the team.
We carried on very carefully gently uphill and entered thick conifer forest, with the occasional glimpse of mountains. At a fork right, we saw a sign which looked oddly like it might mean dead end ahead, but with faith in our maps we consciously ignored it and soon came to one end of Lago Perito Moreno, cycling up above it with beautiful views. 10km later and just 2km from Colonia Suiza, it turned out the sign hadn’t just been put there for amusement. A team of workmen were busy digging up our pleasant track and turning it into a mud bath. They might have been repairing it, but the outcome was heavily rutted clay and mud, blocked almost completely by a very large digger. Not realising the weight of our bikes, the workmen enthusiastically signalled for us to just pass by the side. Uncertain whether this was possible, we were further encouraged by an angrily barking dog that appeared at the top of the access track to a neighbouring house, and Robbie bravely aimed his bike at the small gap by the digger as quickly as possible, leaving Hannah to chat to the dog. Robbie made it after about a minute of shoving and dragging with Hannah very close behind but not quite able to make the last shunt. One of the workmen kindly came to the rescue and thank goodness, the track returned 20m later.
We rolled into the campsite 10 minutes later. Despite a few hiccups we considered it an excellent first day and reasonable test of the bikes, gear and ourselves. The presence of a Berlina Patagonia micro-brewery 5 mins from the campsite was the icing on the cake.
Pedalling_Patagonia 