Roderick Phillips's Blog, page 28
October 26, 2013
Puerto Madryn to El Calafate, Day 90
We covered the 3,500 km (or greater than 2,200 miles) from Salta to Puerto Madryn by bus over four long night trips. So rather than spend another 20 hours and some 1500km (932 miles) on a bus to get to our next destination, El Calafate, we’re treating ourselves to a new-fangled invention called the airplane, which promises to convey us there in the brisk time of 90 minutes flat (actually from Trelew – an hour to the south of Puerto Madryn). There is, however, some confusion as to the exact time of our departure. The rather excellent staff at our hostel, La Tosca, assures us we fly at 9 am, not 8 am as it says on the ticket. Apparently, Argentine summer time should have started over the weekend, but at the last moment the government decided to abandon the practice! The good news for Christi and I is that we have an extra hour in bed.
El Calafate is located in southern Patagonia, on the aquamarine shores of Lago Argentino, which is fed by the glacial milk of the Perito Moreno glacier. Much like Bariloche, El Calafate has an alpine feel, although with a dash of the frontier ruggedness thrown in for good measure. Our hostel is the Buenos Aires and because of a booking SNAFU, we get upgraded for free, which is nice. The luxury continues. Our room is great, but the walls are paper-thin and the radiated heat actually leaves us sweltering. We’re informed that the weather appears to be fair for the next few days we elect to move on to our main destination, El Chalten, tomorrow for a few days hiking in the world famous Parque Nacional Los Glaciares (north).
In the meantime we run a few errands, the most notable of which is organizing a trip into the far reaches of the Amazon rainforest in Brazil. It will be an adventure just to get in and out of the Mamirauá Sustainable Development Reserve. We eat dinner at a parrilla called Mi Viejo: the Patagonian lamb, chorizo sausage and ice cream are great, but after so much meat lately I’m craving broccoli (I can’t believe I just said that – Mum would be so proud).
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenchibg, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 25, 2013
Punta Tombo Provincial Park, Day 89
Our second marine wildlife watching adventure begins at Rawson, an hour to the south of Puerto Madryn. The outskirts of this town are plagued by yet another forest of plastic bags clinging to shrubs and bushes. Do the locals not notice this eyesore? Do they not care about the environmental impact? Am I a hypocrite for pointing out another country’s imperfections when both Britain and America have less than perfect environmental records?
Okay, enough moralizing. We came here for the simple pleasure of dolphin watching, although there’s some debate whether the boats will go out given that the strong, gusting winds have returned today. Eventually they do and Dramamine keeps the worst of the swell at bay so I can attempt to photograph the torpedo-like movements of the Commerson’s (or Torina) dolphins as they jump, splash, and cavort in the bow wave or zoom under the boat. Commerson’s dolphins are very different to the more common bottle-nose and different again to the pink river dolphins; Commerson’s dolphins are black and white and resemble mini orcas.
Our next stop is the massive penguin colony at Punta Tombo. Each spring 500,000+ magellanic penguins come ashore to nest. And currently the monogamous penguins are incubating their eggs. Also due to the wintry conditions, few are out and about: most are hunkered down beneath bushes where they make their nests. In good weather there are often thousands of penguins on the beach. Part of the reserve is fenced off to give the penguins some peace, while some areas are designated for us to walk through – no doubt much to the disgust of the inconvenienced penguins. This does allow us to get reasonably close to the little blighters and much like their Argentinian counterparts, many are enjoying a leisurely afternoon siesta. Penguins are not the only ones benefitting from the protected status of the reserve as we encounter guanacos and even a wild guinea pig – much smaller than its domestic counterpart. More an amuse-bouche than a main course.
The long drive back to Puerto Madryn is punctuated by a brief visit to Gaiman. We have a two-minute city tour and then go for High Tea at Ty Gwyn, which is, apparently, Welsh for ‘White House.’ It’s not quite the same as High Tea at The Ritz in London, but there are plenty of cream cakes and lashings of hot tea with milk (which isn’t bad).
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 24, 2013
Peninsula Valdes, Day 88
The weather is much calmer today and the whale watching trips are good to go. To this end several tour buses descend on the tiny hamlet of Puerto Piramides on the isthmus of Peninsula Valdes, which separates Golfo Neuvo (to the south) and Golfo San Jose (to the north). The southern right whales come to the sheltered haven of Golfo Nuevo each spring to give birth and raise their young. And because the weather is calm today, the mothers can spend more time having fun with their calves – and us – and less time worrying that their vulnerable kids might drown (which they are prone to do until they have built up sufficient blubber stores to float).
Incidentally, the whales got their name during yet another sad chapter in man’s destructive history with the natural world. At the height of the whaling era these friendly creatures swam right up to the whalers´ boats making them easy (i.e. the right whales) to harpoon. Needless to say their numbers were decimated, but recent protective measures have saved these endearing creatures from extinction – at least for now. And since the southern right whales remain very friendly and curious, they still swim right up to, beside, and even under the boat. Many of the mothers are swimming on their backs today with their flippers exposed. Our guide explains that the mothers maybe resting after the exertion of keeping their young alive over the last few stormy days. This may also signal to the young to leave mum alone – if so, the calves seem to ignore this particular plea. Interestingly, the mothers have unique calcification patterns on their heads which researchers can use to identify more than 1,000 individuals. This is the best whale-watching experience – ever.
And the fun doesn’t end there. Further along Peninsula Valdes at Punta Delgada we see about 30 southern elephant seals lazing on the beach and finally we get up close and personal with a small colony of magellanic penguins that have started nesting on the peninsula. A fantastic day.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 23, 2013
Puerto Madryn, Day 87
The windows of the bus are heavy with condensation this morning as I stare bleary-eyed at the scenery. We’ve crossed Argentina from west (the lakes and mountains of the Andes) to east (the vast plains that run down into the Atlantic Ocean). The major reason to visit this area is its wildlife and we quickly book ourselves onto two separate tours: whale watching and canoodling with penguins.
The whale watching trip scheduled for today is, however, canceled and as we begin to explore Puerto Madryn we can understand why. Gale force winds are sweeping across the town, kicking up sand which strafes our skin like a million nano-missiles. We have lunch at a pub called Mr. Jones, which is one of the few places open. Clearly, the locals don’t siesta here to avoid the sun, but to avoid the sand storms. Of course, being tourists, we ignore the inconvenience of a slight sandstorm to do what our LP guide suggests is a ‘pretty 3 km walk’ along the waterfront to the Ecocenter.
The Ecocenter is beautifully situated on a bluff overlooking the mighty Atlantic Ocean. Inside, the exhibits are interesting and informative and most of them have English translations (yay!). The theme is eco awareness: from the life cycle of the main marine animals (seals, sea lions, penguins, orcas, and the Southern Right Whale) to the damage man is inflicting on the marine environment. One display in particular leaves an indelible mark on me. It’s a satellite heat signature of a large city – only it’s not a large city it’s a massive concentration of factory boats in the rich (albeit dangerous) fishing grounds of the South Atlantic. Clearly, it’s only a matter of time until we deplete this incredible natural resource in the same way as we decimated the marine life in other parts of the world.
Nature is fighting back, though. And it mostly appears to be targeting Christi and I as we stagger back to town in the teeth of the ongoing sandstorm.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 22, 2013
Circuito Chico tour, Bariloche, Argentina, Day 86
Today is our last chance to do the Circuito Chico tour and see some of the finest scenery around Bariloche, but we’ve blown it. The rain that began last night continues to hammer down this morning, drenching the scenery and our spirits. Our timing since arriving in Bailoche has been terrible. Every time there has been a beautiful sunny day we have slept in, wandered around town, and done very little, while our tours have all occurred on the wettest, grayest days.
The tour turns out to be pathetic on several levels. First the commentary is all in Spanish. Bariloche is a tourist hotspot, yet it’s impossible to find an English-speaking guide. How can this be? There’s clearly a huge opportunity for some enterprising chap to shake-up the tourist scene around here. Second, although we stop frequently, low cloud, fog, and rain obscure the supposedly beautiful vistas and repeatedly soak us – so no beautiful photographs. Although I suppose it could be argued that if you can’t see the view, you can’t see the view that you are missing! And third we don’t even stop for a hot drink at the famous Hotel Llao Llao, consequently we’re back in Bariloche by 12:30pm. Yet another cheap and cheerful Super Plancha lunch (Argentinian fast food) before returning to Rapa Nui for hot tea (finally) and cake. I spend a few hours updating my diary and planning while Christi disappears to an internet café to upload about a billion photos to Picasa (very few from today, though).
Tonight we leave Bariloche on yet another overnight bus, this time to Puerto Madryn. I know these overnight buses save a night’s accommodation, but frankly, I wish my bedroom didn’t continually move while I’m trying to sleep. We do, at least, have ‘cama’ seats which are spacious and comfortable (even if they don’t recline 180o) and infinitely preferable to semi-cama for overnight journeys. The food is also a little better – we get steak, rice, and coca cola for dinner, which we eat while watching the political thriller State of Play starring Russell Crowe. No need for Netflix or Red Box, pirated movies are available in Latin America the day after their theatrical release in the USA – sometimes even before!
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 21, 2013
White water rafting on the Rio Manso, Day 85
This is not my first experience of white water rafting, but what baffles me is why I continue to do it. Be it in Maine (USA), Australia, or the Zambezi in Zimbabwe (which Christi and I did together), my experiences have had two things in common: class V rapids and long swims. Perhaps today will be the day I finally get to stay in the raft, but I’m not comforted by the fact that, Christi aside, my team mates are all rafting virgins.
From Bariloche, it’s two hours by minibus along increasingly dilapidated tracks before we literally reach the end of the road. Our base is fairly rustic, comprising a couple of rambling cabins, some outdoor toilets, and plenty of rafting equipment: wetsuits, windbreakers, helmets, life jackets, paddles, and of course the rafts themselves. I’ve never worn a wetsuit while rafting before, so the water must be damned cold (another reason to avoid an unscheduled dip). Rafting Adventure – Video
Christi and I are photographed in our new togs beside the stunning green waters of the Rio Manso and then we stumble awkwardly into our raft. There are six of us plus our guide, Geronimo (his name, alone, sounds far too gung-ho for my liking). Geronimo takes us out onto the water and we go through the various maneuvers we’ll need, including back left, front right and the unsettling hold on for dear life. It’s 40 minutes to the first rapid so there’s ample time to practice – we generate a lot of foam, but not much momentum – and for the nerves to begin to tingle. But then, as we get closer, we can hear the ferocious noise of the rapids and see the mountainous white water rise up in front of us, all the while Geronimo is screaming instructions as he attempts to navigate a safe passage despite our bumbling efforts to help. The next 40 minutes is action time – mostly easy rapids, but there are three class IV rapids with suitably spine-chilling names: Deep Throat, Devil’s intestines, and Ecstasy (presumably it’s ecstasy if you survive it). And amazingly, if you do hit the rapid correctly you shoot straight through with only a surge of adrenalin (and no lungful of river water) to savor. When not shuddering through white water, the gorge of the Rio Manso and the surrounding misty, snow-capped mountains are quite spectacular. It’s a thrill simply to experience nature at its most majestic – and to experience it all from the comfort of a raft – yay!
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale.
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October 20, 2013
Rapa Nui Chocolatiers, Bariloche, Day 84
We had planned to do the Circuito Chico bus tour today: a 60 km loop to the west of Bariloche that show-cases the most spectacular of the snow-capped scenery at the southern end of Lake Nahuel Huapi. But the thought of another bus tour so soon after yesterday’s slog is not appealing. Currently the weather is alternating between miserable and beautiful, so we may be making a big mistake by not taking advantage of today’s sunny conditions. But honestly, we’re so tired that both the Circuito Chico tour and prospect of hiking are quickly dismissed in favor of a lazy morning at Rapa Nui snacking, reading, writing our diaries, and planning the next leg of our trip through Patagonia. We do eventually drag ourselves away from the luxurious chocolatier for a cheap lunch: the Super Plancha special, which is a giant hotdog, fries, and soda for under US$4.
We feel a little guilty at our inactivity on such a beautiful day so after lunch we do a brief city tour and then wander down to nearby Lake Nahuel Huapi. The clean, fresh air is invigorating and almost makes me glad that we signed up for a white water rafting trip tomorrow. And in our current penurious state we can’t afford the barbecue that goes with the ‘fun day on the river’, so we buy a stack of cheap empanadas to take with us. And if there are any left over, the dogs of Bariloche will undoubtedly benefit tomorrow night. 
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 19, 2013
Lake District, Day 83
It’s wet and windy as we embark upon our tour of the Lake District. We’re doing the Seven Lakes tour (Nahuel Huapi, Espejo, Correntoso, Traful, Falkner, Villarino, and Hermoso). Our guide, Alfonso, is an interesting fellow: he’s middle-aged with died black shoulder length hair tied back into a ponytail. Although he can speak English, he insists upon conducting the tour in Spanish (gee, thanks). He’s wearing a turtle neck sweater, sunglasses (where’s the sun?), tight leather pants, and lots of jewelry. He looks hung over and mostly naps, but occasionally he rouses himself for a brief commentary in a sultry Latin voice. The bus driver also seems keen to keep the tourists quiet by turning the heat up to Sahara levels. Mostly we doze, therefore, and whatever beauty the Lake District has to offer is largely obscured by fog and misty rain.
The highlight of the Seven Lakes tour for Christi is not even a lake at all, but a farm-cum-café on the shores of Lake Correntoso. I think the main reason we stop is because Alfonso needs coffee and some mirror time. So while he adjusts his hair and make-up Christi and I explore the farm. We enter one field where a young lamb jumps straight into Christi’s arms. The love is instant and mutual. When the tour finally reconvenes, Christi is heartbroken (I’m not sure I’ve ever had that effect on her, incidentally). We continue on to the picturesque town of San Martin de los Andes on the shores of Lake Lacar, which is now enjoying its siesta. Alfonso and our driver disappear for 2 hours. There’s little to do but eat and then feed our leftover scraps to stray dogs as we walk around – and boy is it windy.
We take a different route back to Bariloche, which begins in rather unpromising fashion, but then the weather clears, the sun begins to shine and the dull rock formations, hills, and gorges beside the turquoise waters of the Rio Limay suddenly become quite spectacular. Alfonso only avoids mutiny by finally stopping once so that we can get out and embrace the beauty surrounding us.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 18, 2013
Lake Gutierrez, Day 82
Lake Gutierrez is sublime, but before that…
Rapa Nui is not the only artisanal chocolatier in town, so today Christi and I have brunch at another den of chocolate sin, Mamuschka. Christi even finds another dog to pet (there’s no shortage of them in South America), although this time it costs a buck to play with a St. Bernard. Bariloche has a very upmarket alpine feel – the Aspen of Argentina. Consequently, prices aren’t cheap and it’s not long before we’ve spent our daily budget and can only drool over the gourmet confectionary on display. Hiking on the other hand is free and healthy. We begin by taking a cable car to the top of nearby Cerro Otto, (makes me think of the movie, A Fish Called Wanda!) where we have fantastic, albeit ferociously windy, views over Lake Nahuel Huapi.
From there we follow a poorly marked trail to piedra de Habsburgo. We have the trail virtually to ourselves, which is great. The path is still partly covered in winter snow (this being the southern hemisphere), the trees that are bereft of leaves, but sagging under the weight of long beards of Spanish moss, while the horizon is full of snow-capped peaks. We even bring a picnic with us (lots of cheap empanadas plus coca cola), but it’s too cold to dilly-dally for long. The end of the trail is a massive granite outcrop, with simply spectacular views of yet another lake; this one is called Lake Gutierrez. Surrounding the lake on three sides are more snow-capped mountains making for a picture-postcard landscape.
Back in Bariloche we eat trout for dinner. We then weaken terribly and return to Mamuschka for dessert. Later we make friends with a few of the town’s stray dogs by handing out empanadas left over from our picnic.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
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October 17, 2013
Chasing Bariloche, Day 81
No time for gentle introductions today. We’re in a race against time…
The hotel calls a cab to take us to the bus station. It arrives at 8.45 pm – the same time our bus is scheduled to depart. We jump in and slam the doors closed, provoking howls of complaint from the taxi driver. We apologize, but the driver is unsympathetic to our need for speed. Unused to sprinting, Christi now pays the price: she begins to cough uncontrollably. And each time a new hacking cough surfaces, the cab driver freaks out a little more. He starts crossing himself and kissing his crucifix. Swine flu is all over the news and I’m sure he thinks Christi is afflicted. Adding to our woes, the road is full of nighttime revelers and cruising cars. Our progress is glacial.
We finally arrive at the bus station at 9 pm. And while Christi rushes around trying to find our bus, I pay the taxi driver (who seems relieved to be shot of us) and chase after her, dragging two backpacks and my daypack. But our mad dash ends in failure. The platform where our bus should be is empty. We’re devastated.
At 9.05 pm, we shuffle disconsolately back to the Andesmar office inside the station and inquire about a refund or transfer. We are S.O.L. If we don’t get on the bus we lose everything (and it’s hundreds of dollars we can’t afford to replace). Remarkably, there’s a glimmer of hope. The bus stops in San Martin at 9.30 pm for 15 minutes. A taxi can reach San Juan in 30 minutes. It’s now 9.13 pm. Grab our bags and sprint to the taxi stand where, amazingly, there’s no line and a taxi is just arriving. Gently stow our bags and explain that we need to get to San Martin muy rapido. Somewhat surprisingly the middle-aged, paunchy, balding taxi driver is up for the caper. We tear out of the station and onto the nearby freeway.
It’s then full throttle in the outside lane with Christi and I hanging on for dear life, while the cab driver grins manically flashing his lights and swerving around any vehicle that gets in our way. Now it’s our turn to wonder whether this guy has contracted swine flu (it’s 9.23 pm). We stare into the darkness (although I keep one eye on the taxi meter, which is clicking over at an alarming rate), and suddenly we spy the unmistakable shape of a double-decker bus. The taxi driver whoops and screams, but it’s not the right bus (it’s now 9.30pm). We speed on; signs for San Martin begin to appear. Another bus emerges out of the gloom and as we get closer we see that it’s our bus (it’s 9.34pm). The taxi driver completely loses the plot at this point, flashing his lights at the bus, then zig-zagging in front of it, and frantically waving his arms out of the window. Amazingly, the bus pulls onto the hard shoulder and a rather surprised conductor steps off the coach. While Christi pays the elated taxi driver (including a well-deserved tip) I show the Andesmar conductor our valid first class tickets and hump our bags onto the bus. At 9.37 pm, Christi and I collapse into first class luxury; at 9.38 pm the steward brings Christi her first (of many) glasses of champagne. An hour ago we were in hell; now we are in heaven. And an hour after joining the bus we’re served a very nice steak dinner. With full bellies and droopy eye lids we finally recline our seats 180o and fall blissfully asleep in the lap of first class luxury.
At 1 pm we arrive in Bariloche, which is spectacularly located on the shores of Lake Nahuel Huapi in the shadow of the snow-capped Andes. Eager to begin the fun we grab a bunch of tourist literature and repair to the idyllic Rapa Nui artisanal chocolatiers to continue our decadent lifestyle and plan our adventures in Patagonia. We cap 24 hours of total luxury with a fine dining experience at the Kandahar restaurant. Christi chooses Patagonian lamb with plum chutney, while I go for rabbit in white wine sauce. Its de-licious.
First class may have been a struggle initially, but boy did we get the hang of it!
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching ride
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