PATAGONIA…IN SECOND GEAR

SEPTEMBER 27 – OCTOBER 31, 2012

SEPT. 27: Changing of the guard at Flapdoodle. Shelmadene and Jayden hold the fort while Clifford brings us to Dangriga. Maya reservation for 12:20 and of course, we are here waiting an hour ahead of time! Very cloudy and windy. Flight nice and smooth despite the weather. At Int’l Airport I get pulled aside for “further screening” before boarding American Airlines (AA). Random check I guess…quick pat down and bag check and I am good to go. Departure delayed ½ hour as the plane hit a bird on their way into Belize (supposedly…or perhaps it is the controversy we have been hearing on the news about AA flights being delayed or cancelled??). We arrive in Miami nearly 45 minutes late. It seems every time we travel through Miami it gets more and more complicated. We retrieve our duffel bag and cooler and head to “connecting flights”. While our bags were tagged all the way to Buenos Aires (BsAr) in Belize, we still had to claim them and go through customs. Our flight to BsAr is scheduled to depart at 8:30. It is already 7:30 by the time we figure out what to do. The line for “reconnecting” just does not move. It is extremely frustrating to have no control. All we can do is resign ourselves to the fact that we are going to miss the flight. There is another flight at 11:55. It is full so we are put on stand-by. All of this after we pre-paid for “preferred seats” on our original flight. We try to figure out a way to let Jeff and Laurie know we will be on the next flight and to wait for us in BsAr. We are so very backward when it comes to modern communications that I cannot even make a phone call home to have Shelmadene call Cristian in BsAr to tell him our situation. Nerves are extremely frazzled. We indulge in a couple of beers to kill time and all the time I am watching the concourse thinking, “wouldn’t it be something if the Boston flight was late and Jeff & Laurie (J&L) were in the same predicament?” Lo and behold, as we approach Gate D23, there they are!! They had been mirroring our frustrations wondering how they would get word to us that they were late and would be on the next flight.

At 0400 hrs we are now above northern South America, just crossing over Cartagena, Maracaibo, etc. Paul and I managed to sit next to each other even though we were on stand-by. I did have to ask a guy to switch seats so we were together. J&L somehow got bumped up to business class and had very spacious seats, although not together. I have no idea what the future holds for AA but from today’s experiences and news reports over the past couple of weeks things don’t look too good. I hate these individual monitors on the seat backs that show you your flight progress. Oh boy! Only 5 hours and 45 minutes more to arrival!!

SEPT. 28: We FINALLY arrive around 1000 hrs. Fear of all fears when starting a mega vacation…NO LUGGAGE!!! J&L have theirs so they proceed through horrendous lines for customs while Paul & I try to locate ours. We are told it was left in Miami, along with luggage for at least 25-30 other passengers. Since there was no way for us to contact Cristian to tell him we would be

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late, he has waited nearly 4 hours for us. After going over the camper we decide to drive 1 ½- 2 hours to Laguna Lobos for the night and come back early tomorrow in hopes our luggage will arrive.

SEPT. 29: We drive 2 – 2 ½ hours (!!) back to the airport and once again we are totally at a loss. We go to the exit area of customs where yesterday we were told to go and now are told we need to go to Terminal A (not B) where the AA agents are. Being so early in the morning no one is at the desks. After wandering around in somewhat of a daze (with tempers flaring) a very nice Argentine lady comes to our rescue. Fortunately she speaks English and has lost her luggage as well. We finally find someone to help us and we are led on a seemingly endless journey through the airport to get on the “other side” of customs. Unfortunately they will only allow one passenger to enter so Paul and the lady’s husband wait outside for us. Our duffel bag and cooler are there!! The 0630 Miami flight has just arrived so the place is mobbed and there are no luggage carts to use. Somehow I find the strength and determination to drag/carry both pieces through the massive line to get through customs. I have a feeling I will have some very sore arm and back muscles tomorrow. A few brief questions by the Customs Agent, a quick look inside the cooler and I am more than relieved to meet Paul. We wheel our stuff out to the parking lot where J&L have been waiting with the camper. Cristian came back with a cell phone and GPS in case we needed it. (A long drive for him as their base is on the other side of huge BsAr). FINALLY, we can start our adventure and long, long hours of driving. Route 265(?) is in pretty bad shape…lots of large potholes. There also has been a lot of rain. The cow fields have a lot of standing water and the lake at Lobos is very high. We drive and drive and reach Tornquist early evening. We had stayed here four and seven years ago. While not the best campground in the world it does have large trees and bathroom facilities. It is dirtier (trashy) and the crowds of kids are here as before. When we checked in the lady remembered us from 4 years ago…when she saw me she said “Belice!” and apparently I had given her a Wee Wee Caye T-shirt. Campgrounds are much more expensive than before (Lobo, 130 pesos, Tornquist/Base 110). Diesel prices are also a lot higher than 4 years ago. We have paid $5.50-6.00 (pesos) per liter whereas 4 years ago it was around $2.50. Unlike previous journals, I will refrain from listing the evening’s menus…suffice to say it never varies much from beef, onions, peppers, butternut

squash, etc. SEPT. 30: The sleeping arrangements leave much to be desired. From the first we decided J&L should have the “main cabin” (in the rear, double bed) and Paul and I would sleep on the bed above the cab. That changed after the second night. The head space up top was at the most 2 feet and to get up there you have to step on the dinette seat and kind of propel yourself up into the bed without smashing your head on the roof. Once up it was

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rather comfortable but getting in and out is another matter. So, I will continue to go through the acrobatics of getting in and out and Paul will sleep on the fold-down bed that during the day is the dining table and booths.

We head out early with Choele Choel our destination. We are not carrying any fresh meat or fruits/vegetables as we have to pass through the agricultural checkpoint outside of Bahia Blanca. The government is trying to stop the spread of any animal or plant-borne diseases between Patagonia and the rest of Argentina so they will confiscate any fresh meats, etc. We have learned from experience. We stop at an ATM and the Super Mercado in Choele Choel to stock up on food for a few days and go to the Municipal Campground. Once again, we stayed here on both previous trips. It is dirtier and much more crowded (some sort of bike race going on) but most people leave at the end of the day. We were not charged anything for some reason. The usual array of friendly dogs soon finds us and one sleeps by the door all night long. Guess those little tidbits of beef have something to do with it (?). In years past, the campground had large piles of firewood that was free for the taking and made excellent kindling. Not so now. We scrounge and scrounge to get a few small pieces to start the fire. The firewood we buy by the bag at gas stations and stores is excellent but we always need kindling.

OCT. 1: A fairly short drive today but through one city after another (Villa Regina, General Roca, Cipolletti, Neuquen, etc.) Paul & I had considered retracing our steps of 7 years ago to Laguna Blanca Park but decide to go the shorter route so we can get to more interesting places sooner. We camp at Las Huelas (footprints) in El Chocon, where all the dinosaur discoveries have been made. Footprints are visible in the rocks. Once again, this is where we stayed before. I guess most of the trip will be repeats for us but totally new for J&L. Later on we will chart new territory for all of us. Same old guy and his son run the campground and I think they remembered us from 4 years ago. A couple of yappy little white poodles running around. There must be a woman somewhere in the picture although we never saw her. A couple of guys came in by boat with a nice sized fish. The lake is the largest man-made lake in Argentina, made in 1993 for hydro-power. Barely a twig to be found for starting the fire. As we are cooking our meal, one of the fishermen stops by and was very

curious about our blue cheese-stuffed tomatoes cooking on the grill. He thought they were stuffed with tuna and I am not sure if he got “queso azul” in the translation. I have come down with a horrible head cold and it seems Paul will have it next. I imagine it will affect us all, living in such close quarters.

OCT. 2: Another fairly short travel day (a couple hundred kilometers but several hours nonetheless). Further on we will

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undoubtedly have very long days just to go a short distance km-wise. We have shopped several times for food and drink and do so again before reaching Petunia Campground outside San Carlos de Bariloche. While things appear to be more expensive, like gas and campground fees, they’re probably not too bad. I forget we are shopping for four adults rather than two. Constant beef, great sausages, cheeses, luncheon meats, beer, wine, rum, veggies, snacks, paper goods, bread, etc. for several days. All of this might add up to $400 pesos, which really isn’t too bad (roughly US$80) for the four of us.

The GPS that Cristian gave us came in handy in Bariloche (as it did in God-awful Bahia Blanca). For some foolish reason I was appointed chief navigator and quite often would forget how to get through a particular city. We easily find Petunia after stopping once again for gas, cold medicine and a few other supplies. Petunia is one of the nicest organized campgrounds, although like all others, if it was crowded it would not be quite so pleasant. Very nice large pine trees, electric hookup, water, nice showers and toilets. Laurie and I quickly fill a few bags with pine cones…the best fire starters of all, even in wet weather. It looks like they are in the process of installing dumping pits for RV’s. Already we have noticed far more campers/motor homes than in previous years. Argentina certainly needs to address the problem of where units can dump their wastes. Up to now, it is standard procedure to find a pull off from the highway and simply let it go. Laurie and I exchange US dollars at the main office…5.6 pesos to the dollar. What I can gather so far from getting pesos from an ATM the rate is right around 5 to 1 or a little less. Every time there is also an 18.00 peso fee for the transaction. And yes, the campground dogs. They are mostly Golden’s, well taken care of, extremely friendly, and it seems they have been taught to act humble when doing their begging.

OCT. 3: As usual we are up early and on the road. We have enough food/drink so we don’t really have to shop before heading into Los Alerces National Park. Somehow we screw up a turn or two near El Bolson and have to back track before the ace navigator figures out where we went wrong. The GPS is good in cities but not very helpful in smaller towns and remote areas. Plus, the woman’s voice on the GPS is extremely aggravating… (“In 500 meters turn right” “Turn Right”. “Continue 296 kms, then turn left”). I quickly learn how to shut the darn thing off!! After El Bolson and Epuyen we leave paved la Ruta 40 and head towards Cholila, former home to Butch Cassidy and his cohorts. The dirt road begins in okay condition but as we climb the mountains into Los Alerces it becomes abysmal. Heavy duty washboard and it begins to rain to

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boot. Not looking too good for our first real night of camping in the “wilds”. We pass a couple on bicycles who need their heads examined…a mountainous dirt road quickly turning to slick mud with the pouring rain, and cold as all get out. We slow down to a near halt as we smugly pass them in our cozy, dry RV…throwing mud and water on them would undoubtedly add insult to injury. We pull into the first side road we see where there is a ranger’s station. The rain has stopped. Paul and I walk down the road to Lake Futalaufquen to be sure we can get in and out of the un-serviced camping area. It’s not the same one we had stayed at before but is quite nice. There are brand new toilet facilities but they are locked. Paul & Jeff quickly repair a fogone (fireplace), Laurie has a quick bath in the lake and I air out our bedding. No dogs in sight but we now are visited by a friendly cat that makes herself right at home in Laurie’s lap. Not too long after our arrival, a Park employee appears with a weed whip and proceeds to cut bushes within a few feet of us. Guess they are getting ready for “the season”. He surely puts a damper on our enjoyment of the “wilderness”. As we get a fire going the rain comes back and turns to light snow. We don’t remember it being this cold and rainy but then again we probably said the same thing 4 years ago. We (maybe not Paul) had hoped to spend a couple of days here but the weather will sure change our plans. We manage to have a good cooking fire for our usual bountiful menu and make it an early night.

OCT. 4: It is becoming a ritual…up early and on the road. If we are not driving by 0730 we are “behind schedule”. Whose schedule is anyone’s guess as I thought the idea of a vacation was to dispense with schedules. But, it will be a very long driving day. We have decided to sidetrack 146 kilometers (roundtrip) off Ruta 40 to visit Sarmiento and the Petrified Forest there. New territory for all of us. Sarmiento is an oil town out in the middle of nowhere. The moon-like landscape is different than any we have seen on this trip. The guide books show a couple of campgrounds on the Lakes (Musters and Cholhue Huapi) but the wind is blowing so hard we continue on into town. We stop at the tourist info center to ask about an ATM, Supermercado and a campground. The very friendly, young lady directs us to all with her broken English and our non-existent Spanish. The Municipal (ACA) campground is on the edge of town and so typical of all of them…sites side-by-side with large fireplaces and picnic tables. Some of the bathroom facilities are open but as usual nothing to write home about. At least we are the only ones here. It is relatively clean and inexpensive but would be a nightmare if it were crowded.Nothing much to do or look at…a children’s playground and a few horses in the next property over.

OCT. 5: We want to leave at the crack of dawn (0630-0700) to visit the Petrified Forest about 30 kms outside of town. We go to exit the campground and the gate is locked! Good for security I suppose but not if you want to leave early. After awhile of hanging around the gate/office, the lady in charge finally appears in her night clothes and swings the gate for us. She did not appear to be very happy. The road from town to the Petrified Forest is dirt all the way but in halfway decent shape. A Police vehicle stops us along the way and tells us the Park does not open until 0900 and we are to wait in the parking lot until then. We arrive shortly before 0900 and the Park Ranger tells us the rules before we begin our hike. Skies are crystal clear but it is very cold

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and the incessant wind is howling. We walk on designated trails for an hour or two and see some pretty impressive fossilized trees but it is not as spectacular as Bosque Petrificado Jaramilla further to the southeast off Route 3. Still, it is an eerie, barren landscape. They have a nice little visitors’ center with a lot of fossils and stuffed birds and animals of the area. We back-track to Ruta 40 heading to Rio Mayo, Perito Moreno, and ultimately Los Antiguos on Lago Buenos Aires near the Chilean

border. We get into Los Antiguos and look for a market but everything is closed. This has happened to us twice before so we are now figuring out that the Argentines also adhere to “siesta time”. The municipal campground is very crowded with school kids and so another hope of spending a couple of nights is dashed. They do have new toilet and shower facilities but they are mobbed with kids who leave them in a mess. At a quick stop in Rio Mayo for supplies, Laurie buys some very nice cupcakes so I do have a Birthday after all. Sure a different one from past years when we were surrounded by penguins and/or elephant seals.

OCT. 6: Eager to leave this campground, we are “on schedule” getting on the road by 0730. Backtrack 58 kms to Perito Moreno to reconnect with Ruta 40. We had filled up with diesel yesterday so, for one of the few times, we bypass the gas stations. This section of Ruta 40 is still under construction and unpaved for nearly 120 kms. Our plan was to top off diesel at the little desolate outpost of Bajo Caracoles which has been a reliable stop for fuel in past years. Not so in 2012. No fuel and the place seems even more on the brink of abandonment, although for a few kms on either side the road has been paved. We continue on south on 40 thinking we may find somewhere to pull off and camp but do not see anything worth stopping for. For about 240 kms Ruta 40 is unpaved, some areas pretty rough (2nd or 3rd gear) but generally not too bad for a gravel road. Construction crews are hard at work with the paving. We are getting low on fuel but are confident the YPF station just outside Tres Lagos will have fuel. Not so. The lady at the YPF does not know when they will get a delivery and there is no way we can make it to the next town, El Calafate. Of all the small towns in Patagonia, Tres Lagos is my idea of the one place you DO NOT want to get stuck in. If they have a claim to fame, I have no idea what it is. Two dusty streets, a few houses, a police outpost, a tourist center (for what I cannot guess) and a large compound for the company that is doing the road work along Ruta 40. Our only hope is to try and buy some fuel from the company. Once again the language barrier is a problem. We talk with a young man who seems to be in charge but he tells us no, he cannot sell us fuel. He directs us to the main office and we are warmly greeted by the Jefe (boss). Fortunately he speaks some English. We explain our problem and he tells us to go back to the young man and

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have him give us 25 liters of fuel, which he thinks will surely get us to El Calafate. They stop pumping at only 5 liters and we finally convince him the boss said 25. After expressing our thanks we go back into the office to pay for the fuel. No, no, no…they are not allowed to sell fuel from their supply but in cases of emergency they can give away small amounts. Needless to say, there were 4 very grateful and happy campers leaving Tres Lagos today. With all eyes on the fuel gauge, we travel 163 kms to El Calafate and limp into town late in the day. Somewhere along the route we decided to splurge and rent a cabana for a couple of days. We find Pablo and Marina’s place (Cabanas Bahia Marina) but cannot raise anyone’s attention. Paul and I stayed here 7 years ago and became friends with Pablo and Marina. They had promised to visit us in Belize but nothing ever came of it. I had e-mailed them prior to this trip and told them we were coming back but they must have been out and about. Right next door to them there is another group of cabanas so we checked in for two nights. (370 pesos/night for 4 of us). It is a very nice place with a large kitchen/living/dining area and full bath on the first floor and two spacious bedrooms upstairs. What a treat to be inside a warm place after so many days on the road. The first time we have cooked dinner inside!! The spotless bathroom and shower for our use alone is also a real treat.

Some thoughts on the infamous La Ruta 40: Seven years ago it was one of the main reasons we picked Patagonia for a vacation. After reading about it, we just knew we had to be able to say, “We drove La Ruta 40”. At that time none of the route was paved between El Bolson and the cutoff to El Calafate. It varied from a good hard packed gravel road to a bone jarring, teeth rattling washboard nightmare. The clouds of dust we generated would have reduced any oncoming or passing vehicle’s visibility to near zero. Today, the majority of the route has been paved. The remaining gravel sections aren’t too bad, actually better than some of the paved areas that are already full of potholes. Is it really an improvement? Yes, in many ways, but the mystique and adventure of travelling the old route has passed into history. Is it still worth the days and days of long drives to get from point A to point B? Without a doubt, yes.

OCT. 7: No reason in the world to get up early and leave “on schedule”. Only one major item on the agenda…visiting the Perito Moreno Glacier in Parque Nacionale Los Glaciares. This Glacier is

one of the few, if not the only, glaciers in the world that is growing rather than receding. The glacier is about 90 kms from town along a good paved road, but once inside the park boundaries the road is very narrow with numerous hairpin curves. The visitors’ center is fairly crowded with several tour buses and private cars. Since 2008, they have built all new walkways and stairways to observe the front of the glacier from many different viewpoints. It is overcast and very cold, the frigid air coming off the glacier dropping the air

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temperature considerably. It is a beautiful sight with the typical blue hue of the ice. (Park entry fee, 2012…100 pesos per person. 2008…40 pesos/person!) On the way back from the park we stop at the recently opened Glaciarium that explains everything you wanted to know about glaciers and a host of other natural history topics. It is very well done and well worth the time to visit. Back to the cabana for a leisurely lunch and relaxation. Jeff, Laurie and I drive the short distance into town to top off the fuel and water tanks, buy ice, firewood and charcoal and go to La Anonima to stock up on several days of food and drink. (La Anonima is the largest food store chain in Patagonia and is always the first choice for shopping if there is one in town.) Several years ago El Calafate banned the use of plastic bags within the town so we use our canvas tote bags to haul everything back to the RV. The ban on plastic bags is something that all towns should endorse, not only in Patagonia but particularly in parts of Patagonia where the winds blow constantly and plastics of all kinds are seen wrapped around fences, trees, and any other man-made or natural object that gets in the way of the wind borne trash. I have just realized that I have given few words to the wildlife we have been seeing. Not that the numbers of guanacos and Rheas are in any way less than in previous years but perhaps simply because we have seen so many of them before. It is still exciting to see herds of guanacos and flocks (?) of Rheas and our numerous photographs will confirm this. Perhaps the more gratifying thing is to hear Jeff’s and/or Laurie’s excitement whenever we see the animals.As the saying goes, “Been there, done that” but for them everything is new. I am very glad they decided to make this trip with us.

OCT. 8: After 2 nights of relative luxury and comfort, we are again “on schedule” at 0730. Full tanks and full larders, we hope to make it to Parque Nacionale Monte Leon on the Atlantic coast. Our mountain and lakes days are over…now it’s time for what I think are the best parts of any Patagonian trip…the spectacular coastline of southern Argentina. We have about 280 kms to travel from El Calafate until we reach the cutoff to Ruta 3, a little west of Rio Gallegos. While the coastline has my favorite areas, Ruta 3 is my worst nightmare. It was in 2005, it was in 2008, and it will surely prove to be so in 2012. On route 5 southeast, we ascend to a fairly high plateau that I had forgotten about, but upon seeing it again, it is clear in my memories…a very cold, extremely windswept area with traces of snow left over from the winter. No towns to speak of only a few distant outposts of one of the gas companies or isolated sheep estancias. How any sheep, not to mention people, can survive in this environment is beyond me. But still, it has its own beauty. Whenever we stop for a short break, we have to be very aware when we open our doors. Depending on the direction of the wind, the door will either be almost impossible to open or the wind will whip it out of your hands and crash against the side of the vehicle. I hate to think what the consequence would be if one of us is between that heavy door and the side of the vehicle. Needless to say, our breaks are short and few.Once on Ruta 3, I think Jeff begins to realize just what we have always talked about…the constant struggle with the steering wheel to keep the RV in-lane and on the road. Ruta 3 is the main north-south route from Buenos Aires all the way to Tierra del Fuego, thus huge cargo trucks and double-decker passenger buses are the norm. As if the “normal” winds weren’t bad enough, every time a large vehicle passes in the opposite direction it creates even more of a wind blast. And if there are two or more vehicles close together it seems nearly impossible to

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keep the RV under control. Jeff does most of the driving, with Paul spelling him for short periods. They do an excellent job and obviously keep us alive but it is clear that it is a very nerve wracking job. I honestly cannot say that I have ever been on a more frightening 2-lane highway.Before leaving Belize I had tried several times, through Cristian and the outfit (Kimiri) that has the campground concession at Monte Leon, to see if the area would be open. In 2005 it was our absolute favorite spot, in 2008 it was closed due to a road washout, and this year it is closed until November 1st. A great disappointment but somewhat expected. Jeff and Laurie would have loved the beaches, animals, penguin rookery, and the surrounding environment. When our attempts to weasel our way into the Park fail, we have no other option but to push on northward another 166 plus kms to Puerto San Julian. We fill up with diesel again and try the super market on the hill for firewood and a few supplies. It is closed all day for some unknown reason. We are told to go to La Anonima. Wow!! San Julian has come up in the world. We actually drove right by the store on our way into town, just across from the road we will take. We stock up and take the coastal route. It has started to rain and the road is in very bad condition. Four years ago we encountered a huge dust storm here…now it is slick mud and terrible washboard. Again, 2nd gear is the norm for most of the way (25 kms) to Playa la Mina. We pull into the beach just before dark and Paul & Jeff quickly erect a fogone and start a fire for dinner. It is brutally cold and the rain turns to light snow before we finish cooking. This is the place where the high cliffs are loaded with huge fossilized oysters and other shells.

OCT. 9: No plans of going anywhere today. A conspiracy is taking form among 3 of us (I don’t think I need to name names) to begin a “dallying” campaign. Now that we are on the coast with great camping areas, many days left on our journey, and despite the sometimes bad weather, we 3 co-conspirators have vowed to do everything in our power to find excuses not to rush on to the next point of interest. The rain stopped during the night but it is still very cold. A few sea lions just offshore and we recall there is a Loberia (sea lion colony) in the next cove over. We all beach comb and hand pick our fossils for souvenirs. Yes, it is illegal to collect fossils. Searches of the beach and nearby reveal little if any kindling to speak of. Good thing we collected those pine cones at Petunia. We secure the camper and drive back the way we came to visit the Loberia. It is a very short distance off the “main” road with the parking area on the bluff. A small fenced in area allows views of the sea lions far below on the rocks. It’s not a large colony and binoculars are a must for decent views. We continue further on (back) and stop to check out Playa Pigafetti as an alternative campsite. Antonio Pigafetta was a young Italian who chronicled the voyages of Magellan when he came to this area in the early 1500’s. Like Playa la Mina the rock bluffs are loaded with fossils. We decide to move here as it is much cleaner, the beach is more interesting, and the old metal roofing windbreak from years ago is still in place around the fire pit. The site is right next to the road but any cars passing are not visible, thus neither are we visible from the road. I don’t believe there was more than a car or two passing. A pleasant day relaxing and exploring with nice, sunny weather. It is a great beach to camp on as long as you are self-contained.

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OCT. 10: We are up early and on the road for what promises to be another long day of driving. (So much for our conspiracy!) We backtrack the 20+ miles to San Julian and get back onto Route 3 north. The break from this nightmare road has been more than welcome but now we have little or no choice but to drive it to get to our next destination. After about 320 kms we reach Caleta Olivia, a medium sized town on the coast. The approach from the south is appalling. Nowhere are the windblown plastics more evident than here. There is a landfill just outside town and the incessant wind has it strewn everywhere. I doubt even covering the landfill on a daily basis would help much.

We stop for fuel, firewood, and ice and continue north. Just outside town we are stopped by the police. After a bit of confusion due to the language barrier, we understand we have one headlight that is not working. Fortunately there is a gas station across the road and rather than give us a ticket the policeman tells us to get it fixed. It’s a good thing Jeff is with us…Paul and I would not have had a clue of how to remove the light bulb and ask for a new one. Jeff quickly replaces the bulb and we are on our way. We had thought we might camp on the beach somewhere just north of town but decide to push on. We had camped here on the past two trips but it is so close to Route 3 that you hear traffic all night long. The beach is very step and has nothing much of interest except pretty, rounded stones. As we are travelling along, in heavy traffic going at 90-100 kms/hour, a small car in front of us puts on its blinker indicating a right turn. The car slows down a little bit and so does Jeff. All of a sudden the car brakes severely and abruptly. Jeff applies the brakes but it appears that we may rear-end it so he begins to turn the wheel slightly to the left to avoid the car. I am seated behind Jeff and out of the corner of my eye I see the side of a double-decker bus inches away from us. I yell “WATCH OUT!!.” Jeff immediately comes back into our lane with full pressure on the brakes. Very fortunately the small car makes its turn before we hit it. If Jeff’s reflexes were any less than they were, the bus would have side-swiped us and I hate to think of the outcome. Not only would WE and the flimsy RV have been pulverized, but what may have happened to the more than 100 people on the bus and other vehicles in close proximity? All four of us were extremely traumatized, but probably none of us more so than Jeff. This was just one more affirmation of my intense fear and hatred of Route 3. As we continued on, the silence in the RV was testament to the shock we all experienced over this near catastrophe.

On a more positive note, we had read in one of the guide books about the small little village of Bahia Bustamante on the coast north of Comodora Rivadavia and south of Camarones. The town was established in the 1950’s as a major seaweed producing area. All the “streets” in town are named after species of seaweed (Gracilaria, Macrocystis, etc., etc.) While the town has been mostly abandoned, seaweed is still collected there. Some of the old company buildings have been turned into tourist accommodations. Thinking we could find somewhere along the beach to camp, we cut off Route 3 onto Route 28 and travelled approximately 35 kms on a so-so dirt road to the “town”. “Private Property” signs were very prevalent with no access to the coastline. We saw a few Land Rovers near the buildings so we pulled in. We were met by a very affable man (I’m guessing perhaps English or Australian?) who seemed to be in charge.

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He said there was no camping allowed but we could park near the seaweed sorting shed if we wanted. He also showed us a large dining room/kitchen with a huge fireplace and told us we were welcome to cook our meals there. After a short group discussion and despite the fact it was getting late in the day, we decide to forgo the opportunity and continue on Route 1 which would take us to Camarones and Cabo dos Bahias. Just before Playa de Elola, the road forks and we headed south towards Cabo dos Bahias where we knew there was an excellent camping site on the beach. (This knowledge came from our first two trips and ended up being one of our favorite camping spots and areas for exploring.) It was nearing nightfall before we pull in and we quickly set up camp, refurbish the fogone and cook another delicious meal. It is a good end to a very traumatic and unforgettable day. There is no need whatsoever to discuss where we will go tomorrow. Not one of us looks forward to getting back onto Route 3 in the very near future.

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OCT. 11: We start our day with four plans: 1) Visit the Penguineria (Penguin Rookery) at Cabo dos Bahias, 2) beach comb, 3) drive 20 or so kms into Camarones for supplies, ATM, whatever, and 4) RELAX. Unlike the more famous penguin rookery at Punta Tombo, Cabo dos Bahias is by far more appealing. The three times we have been here, we have been the ONLY people present. When we stopped at the check-in point to the park, the Ranger told us there was no “entry fee today”. Why, I have no idea. Four years ago

we paid $20 pesos each but I do not know what the fee is today. Right around the ranger’s house there are a dozen or more guanacos quietly munching on grass and, although curious, they were not bothered by our presence at all. Needless to say, both cameras recorded multiple close-up shots. The rookery is a vast area with wooden walkways to keep you away

from the penguins (Magellanic). However, the walkways do not keep the penguins away from you and several comic individuals pose for photographs within a foot or less. We witness a dispute, whether over a mate or territory I’m not sure, but it is brutal to watch. Blood is drawn and other penguins nearby seem very focused on the confrontation. Near the end of the walkways we also see several guanacos and 2 Rheas among the penguins. It is a wildlife lover’s paradise. On our return journey we

spot 2 hairy armadillos scurrying about among the penguin burrows. I doubt they are any danger to the eggs or chicks but the penguins seemed to keep a close eye on them.

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What is a danger to eggs and chicks are the Skuas and seagulls. Although we saw only a few

eggs and no chicks, they were certainly lurking about.

We drive back into Camarones which is a delightful little town. This is where former President Juan Peron grew up and there is a small museum. It is difficult to get lost as the short, extra-wide streets are laid out in grids. After dark on the beach last night we saw several lights at sea which appeared to be fishing vessels. Many of them are docked at the town pier so we take some time for retired fisherman Jeff to take a closer look. Several of the boats are from Puerto Deseado, a fair distance to the south across the Golfo San Jorge, and the largest commercial fishing port in Argentina. We locate the supermarket we have shopped at before and to the delight of the owner, spend a good chunk of pesos on meat, wine, beer, ice, firewood, charcoal, etc. Other than some onions and potatoes the

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vegetables leave a lot to be desired. Other than large supermarkets in Patagonia (La Anonima, etc.) we have found this to be true of most places. Things that keep well (potatoes, onions, butternut squash) are readily available but tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms, etc. are relatively scarce. The great distances required for frequent deliveries are undoubtedly a major reason.

OCT. 12: Another pleasant, uneventful day at the beach. We all do some hiking on the beach and surrounding areas. The vegetation is very reminiscent of the American Southwest with its scrub, desert-like vegetation. We have seen very little traffic over the past few days. It baffles me somewhat as to why more tourists do not visit the penguin rookery at Cabo dos Bahias. It is closer to Comodora Rivadavia than Punto Tombo and not all that much further from Trelew, Rawson or Puerto Madryn to Punto Tombo. Perhaps we were turned off by the large crowds when we visited Punto Tombo seven years ago.

OCT. 13: We reluctantly say good bye to “our beach” and head north back to Camarones and Route 1. We are waiting at the supermarket when they open their doors and once again load up on supplies. Wherever you go in Patagonia, be sure to stock up on the delicious Pan Dia, the locally made, very fresh bread. It comes in long French-style loaves and is great for sandwiches or with any meal, crusty on the outside, soft inside. Unpaved Route 1 takes us from Camarones to Rawson. For short distances we are within sight of the ocean but for the most part we are driving through the typical Patagonian scrub. We spot several guanacos and Rheas. At Cabo Raso there is a lighthouse and an abandoned town. It appears that some folks are attempting to rehabilitate some of the buildings for perhaps tourism. The road is for the most part quite rough and 2nd gear is the norm once again. Driving these roads requires a lot of patience. There is simply no way to try and get to point B in a hurry, unless you are driving an ATV or a Hummer-type vehicle. The washboard sections are the norm and all you can do is sit back, relax, enjoy the scenery and hope you reach your intended destination by nightfall. Once you resign yourself to this, these are the best places to travel in Patagonia. After several hours, but relatively few kilometers, and past the cutoff to Punto Tombo, we reach the turnoff to Playa de Isla Escondida, a place Paul and I stayed at 7 years ago, but we are concerned whether or not the road is suitable for our RV. There appears to have been a fair amount of rain recently so we cautiously drive the 8 kms to the beach. There are two very steep sections of the road but Jeff is confident we will have no problems coming back up them on our way out (providing we do not get more rain!). While the body of the RV is made of flimsy fiberglass/aluminum, the Mercedes engine and cab live up to Mercedes reputation of being a real workhorse. This is another of our favorite campsites along the coast. We pull off the road at a likely camping spot and walk the beach for awhile.

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Sure enough the elephant seals are still here. There are three or four groups of them consisting of one huge dominant male and his harem of anywhere from 10 to 25 females with pups. We find a more isolated camping spot further down the beach. To our dismay the area is totally trashed up. Paul heads back to get the camper and Jeff, Laurie and I proceed to gather trash (pampers, wine bottles, plastics, and who knows what else) and bury it. Fortunately Jeff has brought along our old Army entrenching tool and makes quick work of a dirty job. I do not believe I will ever understand how people, whether they are in Argentina, Belize, Canada, the United States, or anywhere else in the world, can simply throw their trash on the ground without a second thought. We try to ignore all the windblown trash in the surrounding areas but at least we have a nice, trash free campsite.

OCT. 14: After all the one night stays and long driving hours earlier on in our trip, I am now thankful we pushed on as we did. It is giving us much more time to stay put for multiple days in the coastal areas at great beaches and very isolated camping spots.

Being a Sunday, there are quite a few visitors to the area, some fishing, some picnicking, others watching the elephant seals. I doubt any of them will stay through the night. One guy, who is with his family in a van-camper, stops by and shows us some fossilized bones that he found in one of the nearby gullies coming down off the high bluff. You can be sure that this has piqued Paul’s and Jeff’s curiosity and they are soon off to explore. Paul is hoping to find a bone from the infamous and elusive Mylodon and hopefully reason enough to keep us here another day. The wind isn’t too bad as it mostly comes from the west and we are somewhat protected by the bluff. It has been overcast off and on with a light drizzle at times but the temperature is bearable.

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OCT. 15: As expected no one stayed overnight and we were left totally alone with the animals. It will be another day of doing nothing but walking the miles and miles of beach, collecting bits and pieces of driftwood kindling, shooting endless elephant seal photographs, and simply enjoying an area that I suspect very few people experience in their lifetimes. As it later turned out, we had one housekeeping duty to perform. After a few days with four adults in the camper, we always have to empty our gray water and black water (septic). The gray water is never a concern as it is simply the water from the kitchen and bathroom sinks and can be drained most anywhere where it will be absorbed into the arid ground. The septic requires a great deal more discretion. Not wanting to empty it anywhere near the beach and camping/picnicking areas, Paul and Jeff drive back out the entrance road, up over the first steep hill, and find an inconspicuous place along the road to dump. Since I was not there I am a little uncertain about the exact details but from what I gather this is the essence of the episode. Jeff pulls the valve to empty the septic and he doesn’t see any waste coming out. Paul, from our past experiences doing the exact same thing, tells him to stick a stick up the outflow pipe in case “something” is lodged there. With no results, they assume it is empty and put in the bottled liquid that helps to decompose the wastes. As they pull into our campsite we noticed that the blue liquid is rapidly dripping out. Jeff is very upset to think that he has caused some damage by poking the stick up there and spends the next hour or more trying to rectify the situation by cutting a plastic soda bottle and duct taping it over the outflow pipe. It reduces the flow but does not stop it entirely so he digs a small hole to catch the water. Reluctantly, Jeff and I inspect the inside of the toilet tank and cannot see any sewage in it. We finally convince Jeff to stop worrying about…in a place like this a few drops of liquid are no big deal. If we were in an organized campground it would be a different story. Somehow the whole problem resolves itself. Again, if Argentina can develop a waste disposal system for RV’s and campers, this situation need not arise.

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While we were in this isolated area we had more interactions with fellow travelers than at any other time during the trip. In part, I suppose, is that people realized we were going to stay put here for an extended time. As we were getting the fire ready to cook our evening meal, a man walked up to our campsite and tried starting a conversation with us. He seemed very uneasy and then we figured out what he was getting at. A tourist van (perhaps 16 passengers) had passed our campsite earlier in the day. As it turns out, the driver attempted to turn around in a small area and became stuck in the soft sand. Jeff and Paul immediately followed the man further down the beach to offer their help. A backhoe and/or bulldozer would have been the more appropriate help. The van was sunk above its rear axle in the sand. The tourists, from what I could gather and from their Spanish, were for the most part local Argentines on a tour from either Trelew or Puerto Madryn to see the elephant seals. In any other situation it would have been a good episode for the Keystone Cops or some other similar show. Jeff is underneath the rear of the van with the entrenching tool trying to dig out the wheels and another guy, who I do not believe was part of the tour but a fisherman trying to have a nice day out, were the ones doing the work while the driver and tour guide stood around giving directions. The tourists, mainly females, were huddled together, obviously very cold having not dressed for being left out in the cold. They attempted to carry on a light hearted conversation with me. I am sure they all thought we were half crazy for actually WANTING to spend a night (or more) in this remote area. Several hours later, just before nightfall, a very weary Jeff stumbles back to our campsite covered in wet sand. The van passes by us and everyone gives a hearty wave. Hopefully they will remember that there were a few friendly American/Belizean tourists who helped them out so they could get back to their warm hotel rooms for the night.

Another interaction occurred as we finished eating and by now it is dusk. Out of nowhere two men with a small 4-5 year old boy walk into our campsite. They appeared friendly but quite disheveled. For some reason I look up and there is another man at the top of the bluff.

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As one of the men puts out his hand to shake mine I recoil at the sight of it. I do not know what was going through my mind at that moment, but the hand appeared to be very bloody. Apparently it was not, as I shook his hand and my hand came away clean. After a short attempt at Spanish conversation, the men pointed at our wheels and said they had a problem up on the road. At first we thought perhaps it was a flat tire and tried to indicate we could help them with a jack but they were suggesting a broken axle. They asked when we were leaving and we said we were staying for the night. They made their way back up the bluff and we never saw them again.

OCT. 16: It was certainly an eventful three nights at Playa de Isla Escondida but time to continue our trek northward. It is a short day of travel on the remaining section of Route 1 to Rawson and back to Route 3 at Trelew for 57 kms to Puerto Madryn. After being in the “wild” we decide to check into the ACA campground on the south side of town for a bit of civilization…hot showers, nice toilets, and plenty of water to do some laundry. We soon have clothes lines strung out. I’m not sure this is totally acceptable but no one complains. Several RV types are here but the campground is so huge we hardly notice. There is a very nice, large supermarket as you enter town and a very convenient ATM on the ocean boulevard with easy parking. One night here in town will be more than enough before we head a little further to Peninsula Valdez. Checking the map we see a dirt road that goes from Puerto Madryn to the Peninsula so we will attempt that in the morning. It looks like it hugs the coastline for most of the way.

OCT. 17: Anxious to be on own way, we are up early and out of town. Gravel Route 42 does indeed follow the coastline. Unbeknownst to us the major portion of the route has been designated a nature reserve and we soon learn why. There are many short side roads and pull offs that have un-serviced camping areas and from the beaches we can see Southern Right Whales only a few meters from the shore. There are quite a few people at each stop viewing the whales. Unlike many of the coastal camping/parking areas we have seen, this area is uncommonly free of trash. I suppose it helps that the municipality of Puerto Madryn has placed, and maintains, numerous trash barrels at each site. The road is quite rough, to put it mildly, but the journey in 2nd gear is well worth the time spent. Further away from town and the small crowds, we pull into an absolutely perfect camping spot. In addition to several trash barrels it has a large concrete fireplace sheltered a bit from the wind by several closely spaced Tamarisk trees. Despite its idyllic setting it does have one drawback. On the beach a few feet from the campsite there is a decomposing whale carcass. The prevailing wind brings the putrid smell where we would have parked to camp. None of us think we could tolerate the smell and we reluctantly decide to push on. Upon nose-pinching, closer examination of the carcass we see it has a tag on it and appears to be a very young whale. Perhaps someone at Peninsula Valdez can shed light on the cause of death. At another pull off we see more whales offshore and find two bones of a whale vertebrae on the beach.They are round and from the tail section and almost feel like a piece of pumice. For some reason all thoughts of CITES go out the window and we each try to figure out where these

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bones will fit in our luggage. Another incredible find was a fairly large hunk of Ambergris, supposedly worth more in its weight than gold. Fortunately the stench was so bad none of us had to even think about where to stash it. Anyone travelling from Puerto Madryn to Peninsula Valdez should seriously consider this alternative route, despite the teeth-rattling, bone-jarring road.

Soon after reaching the peninsula you have to stop at the guard booth to pay the entry fee. It was $100 pesos/person plus $15 pesos for the vehicle for as long as you stay. Further down the road is the Interpretation Center which is a must stop. The displays of the peninsula’s flora, fauna, natural and cultural histories are extremely well done. Approximately another 30 kms and we come to the tiny town of Puerto Piramides, world renowned for the presence of the Southern Right whales for several months of the year (roughly June-December). The entire economy of the town is based on whale watching and there are numerous companies operating for a couple of months each year. Since there is no camping allowed in the Peninsula Valdez Reserve the only option is the municipal campground right in the middle of town. Since our previous visit seven years ago the facilities have gone downhill and maintenance seems to be on the back burner. The nightly fee is way too high but it’s this or a cabana. As usual there is a large group of school kids here on a camping/whale watching expedition. It seems they spend most of their time in the bathroom facilities and the dish washing areas, leaving a mess behind. It’s nice to be self-contained, even in an organized campground. There is also a $15 pesos/person shower fee and to add insult to injury, the showers are only turned on from 1900-2200 hours…way past our bedtime.

OCT. 18: While whale watching is the major draw for people visiting the peninsula, people with their own vehicle, or on a tour, can (and must) spend a day driving the road that essentially circumnavigates the peninsula. We decide to travel in a counter-clockwise direction and head to Punta Norte first on Route 3. No, this is not the dreaded national Route 3, but the gravel, washboard Provincial Route 3. It is approximately 73 kms from Piramides to Punta Norte, all inland and nothing but sheep farms that were here before it was made a Reserve. Do not even think you can do it in an hour or so. We left the campground around 0800 and got to Punta Norte about 1100. After following an intense lightening storm much of the way, the skies become crystal clear but it is still very windy. From the observation decks at Punta Norte we see a severely injured male elephant seal on the beach. It is gruesome to watch as the apparent dominate male in the area chases it into the water. It has several large wounds around its neck and on its back and the kelp gulls are adding to its injuries. Apparently adult male elephant seals are not allowed a peaceful retirement once a more dominant male takes over the harem.

From Punta Norte Route 47 follows the coastline south to Punta Delgada. The scenery is spectacular but access to the beaches is strictly controlled with only a limited number of pull offs and viewing areas. Guanacos and Rheas are numerous along the sides of the road. As we are driving along, a Mara (Patagonian hare) runs across the road in front of us. A closer look

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and we see its mate still crouched among the bushes. It stays put so Jeff and I get out and approach it for photographs. We click, walk closer, keep clicking, getting closer and closer wondering why it is so still. When we are just a few feet from it, it goes on high alert and looks like he/she is about to attack. While sitting upright it is perhaps 2 feet high and we wonder just how much damage it could do to human flesh. As I am about to back off I realize what is causing its behavior. In a narrow depression next to it is a very small, fuzzy baby Mara with its ears poking above the burrow. Apologizing profusely, we wisely back off and are more than satisfied with our photographs.

Being the dutiful tourists that we are, and in no rush whatsoever to get anywhere specific, we stop at every available turnout to view the sights. Compared to the animals we have seen so far, up close and personal, the animal views here are not that impressive, having to view most things through binoculars from atop the bluff. At one turnoff we see several small tour buses and cars so we pull off. Tourists with huge lens on their cameras are photographing a dozen or so penguins below. If they could only see what we have seen! As we step out of the vehicle, a man approaches and greets us with a hearty “Hola, Amigos!” Baffled for only a split second, we realize it is the driver of the tour van that Jeff helped dig out of the sand at Playa de Isla Escondida a few days ago.

After reaching Punta Delgada the road once again turns inland and it is roughly 60 kms back to Piramides through more sheep farms. The road conditions are deplorable and we suffer in silence as we once again proceed in 2nd gear. Judging by the number of visitors to Peninsula Valdez and the price they charge per person and vehicle, the National Park system must take in an incredible amount of revenue. Someone should strongly recommend using some of that revenue for road upkeep. But then again, perhaps they figure it is all part of the adventure, which in truth, it is.

Late afternoon we arrive back at the campground. School kids are gone but it appears another group will be arriving soon. There is a large, semi-permanent tent set up very close to us and a guy arrives to open it up. We get into a conversation with him and he is the front man for a tour company that deals with school groups. He informs us the group, with 30 plus tents, will arrive Saturday morning. Okay, we plan on being gone by then. His English is sporadic but we learn he is also a wine merchant from Mendoza Province, the major wine

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producing area in Argentina. We keep asking each other, “Are you SURE he said SATURDAY morning”? The electrical outlet near our campsite does not work so we stretch our cord across the sand to the outlet near his tent. If any cars pass by they will have to drive over it so I cross to the power pole to give it more slack so it lays flat on the ground. I spot something in the sand that I think I recognize but tell myself, “No way”. I scruff the sand with my toe and lo and behold an almost white scorpion races out of the sand. All I saw was the segmented part of its tail. Our Belizean scorpions are black or dark brown but there is no mistaking that tail, having been on the stinging end of one more times than I care to recall.

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OCT. 19: Another morning of rejoicing for not having to get “back on the road”. One of the townie dogs has adopted us and seems to glare at any other dogs who come anywhere near us. When we walked into town, she was there, waiting outside stores for us, following us everywhere. If we lose sight of her, she beats us back to the campsite. Late yesterday afternoon several (perhaps 8-10) very fancy Land Rover-type vehicles pulled in. Each had a couple or two men in it. We watched them set up camp and it was amazing to see the gadgets they have. Some of the tops of the vehicles could be raised providing more head room. Tables, chairs, port-0-potties with a nylon screen that opened from a small little pack with the flick of a wrist, to name a few. I am sure they have to be very precise in repacking everything so it all fits exactly into its proper space. The vehicles are certainly designed for off-road treks and are undoubtedly much better than our RV on some of the roads we have been on.

Jeff, Laurie and I decide to go on a whale watch while Paul relaxes at camp. We walk over to one of the charter companies and find we have to come back in a couple of hours…one boat just left. We make the reservation and pay the fee. I nearly choked when the lady said $370 pesos per person for a 90 minute trip!! (about US$75.00 each). Oh well, it’s a beautiful, calm, sunny day albeit on the cool side. We wander about a bit accompanied by our camp mutt and have lunch at the campsite before going back for the boat trip. Because the tide range is so great, the charter companies have devised a very ingenious method to get the boats in and out of the water. A heavy-duty tractor/skidder hitches to a large trailer with a long yoke that holds the boat. When a boat comes in, they back down into the water and the boat

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drives right onto the trailer and the tractor hauls it up the beach. When it’s time to depart again, they back down into the water and off we go. You get on and off the boat when it is on the trailer at the top of the beach. Besides us the boat was filled with school kids probably in the 10-14 year old range. They were very well behaved but for some reason I attracted the attention of two impish boys who parked themselves right by my side or in front of me. After much giggling one of them asked me my name in very broken English. I told him and asked him his name in Spanish. He replied Rodrigo and asked me to take his picture. After several photos and much giggling, pushing, and shoving the two boys were mildly scolded by one of their teachers. He then asked the boys where I was from (Belize) and that started another round of questions I could not answer. We saw maybe 6-8 whales, a few right next to the boat, but they were not doing any tail or fin displays. We came abreast of another dead whale floating. It was in advanced stages of decomposition and the gulls and giant petrels were having their fill. The lady naturalist on board told us they have seen numerous dead whales over the years and the reason why is somewhat vague. She did say that the petrels and kelp gulls attack the young or injured whales and peck at them until they have so many wounds they cannot survive. Surely there are more reasons for the deaths. Upon debarking, young Rodrigo comes up to me, shakes my hand and says “it was a pleasure to meet you” in very good English. Laurie had a good laugh when we got back to Paul at the campsite and told him I had a new boyfriend.

Back on land we wander into town with our loyal camp mutt at our heels. She was patiently waiting for us at the charter company’s office when we returned. Having discovered a great ice cream place the day before, we make a bee line for some of the best ice cream I have ever tasted. The proprietors are extremely friendly and insist we come behind the counter to choose our flavors. Exactly how many flavors they have I’m not sure but it is in the dozens. I attempt to use the internet next door to the ice cream store but cannot figure out the Spanish commands. This is the longest we have ever gone without touching base with Shelmadene and Clifford. All we can do is assume everything is okay at home.

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OCT. 20: We are on the road early as it will be another long day of driving. We retrace our steps off the Peninsula and reconnect with dreaded Route 3. After about 200 kms we stop for a break and do some shopping in Sierra Grande, a sizable town right on Route 3 that is a major iron mining town. There is a new La Anonima so we stock up in preparation of another several days in remote areas. We pass through San Antonio Oeste and several kms further east we cut off to pick up coastal Route 1. While Route 1 is not continuous today, perhaps it was in years past before major Route 3 was constructed. Whenever there is an opportunity to travel Route 1, it should be taken despite the normally rough conditions. Our chosen campsite is out in the open on the beach and right next to the road but vehicle traffic is non-existent. It is a nice beach for walking with lots of shells, nice rocks/pebbles, and a fair amount of small twigs for kindling. It is fairly windy but sunny and it takes some time to build a fireplace as large rocks are scarce. We spot a few dolphins offshore and sit back and relax after a long day. The sand is covered with a nondescript, low growing plant. Just as the sun begins to set, the large yellow flowers open up and carpet the ground with color. Perhaps night pollinating insects are hovering around us?

OCT. 21: With a fair amount of trepidation on Paul’s and my part, we continue on Route 1. Four years ago, when we first “discovered” this area, we were forced to abort our plans and head inland after we ran into heavy sand that was blown onto the road. We are hoping that some maintenance has been done further up the line. We pass through the provincial Park Los Loros and once again see several wild boar skins draped over a barbed wire fence. Judging by the number of skins they must be fairly numerous in this area. I would imagine the local sheep farmers do their best to keep the numbers down. I am beginning to sound like a broken record but the road is horrible and we creep along in 2nd gear. We soon get into the sand dune area. We are a fair distance now from the coast but the dunes are huge on both sides of the road. Neither a blade of grass nor any footprints, large or small, mar the smooth surface of the dunes. We come upon the numerous road signs warning about windblown sand and the dangers of being bogged down. When we come to the area where we almost got stuck four years ago, we see they have done some road work but it is still treacherous. They plowed the sand away but left a very narrow, unstable roadbed. The slightest mistake and we would certainly be stuck. We have seen no vehicles at all so we could be faced with days before anyone came along. Jeff’s cautious, white-knuckling driving

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gets us through the worst of it and we all breathe a sigh of relief. We pass through the tiny town of Bahia Creek with its streets of soft sand and pull off at Bahia Rosas. Again, we are right on the side of the road on the edge of the beach. It’s a beautiful day and a vast expanse of beach in both directions so we decide to spend the night. Unfortunately Jeff has to get out the entrenching tool again to bury trash…pampers, bottles, etc. etc. It is a great beachcombing area and I soon have pockets full of pretty stones and two Penguin wings. There are a lot of dead birds and what appear to be sea lions or seals. Late in the afternoon we spot at least two groups of whales offshore. They are not real close but with binoculars we have great views. Near dinner time heavy fog rolls in and the visibility drops to almost nothing. With the sun gone it quickly becomes very cold and raw but it is a great place to camp for the night.

OCT. 22: On the road again early as we are cold and have had enough of this area. We proceed on Route 1 through more typical Patagonian wilderness with thoughts of stopping at the sea lion colony at Punta Bermeja. We drive up to the visitor’s center and it is closed. We wander about trying to figure out how to get to the bluff overlooking the colony when the Ranger comes out and tells us we cannot go there. Apparently severe erosion of the bluff has caused the collapse of most of the walkways and the viewing platform. Too bad…4 years ago I recall this being the best sea lion colony we had seen.

On to the small coastal, “resort” town of Balneario El Condor. Travelling along the road we can see just how bad the erosion is. Long stretches of the road have been moved further away from the bluff and pull-offs we had used 4 years ago are blocked off for danger or totally washed away. It is hard to imagine the power of the storms that have caused this. Again, El Condor is a nice little town but pretty much deserted at this time of the year. Being in close proximity to the twin cities of Viedma and Carmen de Patagones it is a popular spot for Argentines in the summer. The beach is extremely flat and wide but has nothing of interest on it. At the western edge of the beach there is the world’s largest nesting site of the Burrowing Parrot. The hundred or more foot high cliffs are pocked with thousands of holes where the parrots breed, nest and raise their young. As we walked along the beach at the foot of the cliff the birds took to the air and their squawking was deafening. A pair of unidentified small hawks was taking advantage of one of the holes to make their nest among the parrots.

Driving slowly through the town we spot a policeman on the sidewalk and give him a hearty wave. We stop at a grocery store and he comes up to us and wants to know if we need him. He speaks a bit of English but when he starts asking us questions and we reply, he asks us to please slow down. He wants to know where we are staying (I tell him the campground on the east side of town), he looks skeptical, asks how long we are staying, what we are doing, etc., etc. Come to find out the campground I told him we are going to is closed. Guess that’s why he was skeptical. We have therefore established a new rule of travel…NEVER, EVER, wave to a policeman! We find another campground that is a challenge for us to get into with the big RV. The owner is very friendly but has very little English speaking capabilities. Once

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we have backed the RV into a tight corner spot he comes over with his camera and asks if he can take pictures of us and the RV. I guess he doesn’t get too many like us with big rigs. When he finds out we are from the Boston area he tells us he is a big fan of the group Boston. We are all a little perplexed as to what he means…Boston Pops or some other group? Nice little campground with very nice bathrooms and hot showers. And yes, the proverbial camp cat and dog.

OCT. 23: We head north to Viedma and promptly get lost again. I recognize the roads but there is some construction and we manage to miss the right detours. A policewoman is directing traffic so we stop and ask her how to get to Route 3. After her incomprehensible, rapid-fire Spanish directions we decide to turn on the GPS to get us out of town. Thankfully the aggravating woman’s voice on the GPS does the trick and we manage to find our way through Viedma and over the bridge through the sister city of Carmen de Patagones. The co-conspirators have schemed again and have located an interesting looking cutoff from Route 3 to the coast to delay us further. We are trying to avoid getting back into “civilization” where we will be forced to stay in municipal campgrounds closer to Buenos Aires. Approximately 40 kms north of Carmen de Patagones, at Paraje La Querencia, we turn off onto another gravel road to Balneario Los Pocitos on Bahia San Blas. Of all the gravel roads we have been on this is by far the worst. We get to the cutoff for Los Pocitos and it is a one-lane, soft sand road that Jeff does not feel we should take and we all agree. We back up the short distance we have travelled and at the junction there is a perfect place to dump our holding tanks…a grassy area that will show no evidence of what we did. As we are emptying the tanks I look across the road and see a church. Thankfully it is abandoned, or at least not in use on this weekday.

Rather than turn around and drive the God-awful road back, we decide to continue on to the town of Bahia San Blas. From the Route 3 cutoff to San Blas it is 58 kms. It took us 3 hours for the now familiar 2nd gear, bone-jarring, teeth-rattling journey.

The town of San Blas is located on Isla del Jabali, the local name for the wild boar. Like most of the coastal resort towns we have visited, the season hasn’t yet arrived. San Blas is totally geared to fishermen and I imagine in-season it is very crowded. All along the waterfront boats are hauled up and many of the storefronts across the street advertise fishing charters.It is also well known for its oysters and we see piles and piles of shells in our travels.

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On the way into town we passed a campground that did not look very appealing so we continue in hopes of finding something more remote. We stop at a picnic area at the edge of town for some lunch. There is trash everywhere and when Jeff goes to put our trash in the trash barrel it is full of fish carcasses covered with maggots. In hindsight not a very pleasant place to have lunch. There is a gravel road heading out of town and against the wishes of the non-conspirator in the group we take it. It is a decent road right along the water’s edge and we soon find a pull-off that looks like a good spot to spend the night. There are no “no camping” signs so we quickly set up the table and chairs and stake out our territory. We are right on the road and there is a bit of car traffic but I doubt there will be any at night. As the tide recedes we can see oysters on the mudflats. It would be a real treat to have some seafood but without a license we do not dare grab any. The beach itself is very narrow and

uninteresting but the mudflats at low tide are extensive. Paul and Jeff revert to their collecting days in Woods Hole and spend hours exploring the flats. They come up with some critters that they have heard about but never collected, a sea pansy and some sort of sea feather to name a couple. The weather is good and they seem to be in seventh heaven.

By the time we are ready to cook dinner the incessant wind has come up and we are forced to move our fogone to the leeward side of the camper. With the wind and fog it has turned quite cold.

OCT. 24: The wind has increased overnight and it is brutally cold. Our plans were to stay in this area for a couple of days, mainly because none of us are looking forward to the 3 hour drive out of here. We decide to explore the island and visit a Monastery nearby. There is no one around but we spend quite a bit of time exploring the grounds. It is obviously still active as there are gardens and fruit trees spread around the compound. It seems very well maintained. Because it is a Monastery, or perhaps because we were sheltered from the wind, it was a very peaceful place and worth the visit.

Not wanting to endure the brutal wind and cold on the beach we drive back into town and check out the municipal campground again. Jeff and I think it is an alternative, although surely not the best spot. Paul and Laurie say “No way”. Since the beach again is out of the question we all agree to rent a cabana for two nights. We passed some nice looking ones so

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we go there and check in for two nights. The cabana is very well kept with kitchen/dining area, two bedrooms and full bath. The owner, Alberto is very helpful and even starts to make our beds. We thank him but draw the line at that. He too is originally from Mendoza province but is doing this in his retirement. The cabana has a fireplace built into the wall at waist height and can be used for cooking. We drive back into town to El Gordo, the main supermarket and stock up on supplies. Later in the day the wind dies, the sun shines brightly

but we are content in the comfort of the Costanero Uno cabanas.

OCT. 25: Time is drawing down before we have to turn in the camper to Andean Roads but none of us is eager to move on. Jeff, Laurie and I decide to explore more of the island so we leave Paul at “home” and venture out. As it turns out the roads are not very conducive to RV traffic. We get some good pictures of a burrowing owl perched on a fence post but that’s about the extent of our adventure. Thinking we might find some seafood for sale in this fishing town we go back to main street. Seeing “Carnado” signs in stores along with pictures of fish we venture into one only to be assailed by very strong fish smells. Turns out they are bait stores!! Back to El Gordo where the owners are glad to see us as we fill up two or three shopping baskets. We all have a relaxing afternoon at the cabana and are undoubtedly thinking about tomorrow’s 3 hour ordeal.

OCT. 26: If none of us had any patience before this trip, we have all certainly learned it. There is simply no way that this 58 km road back to Route 3 can be done in more than 2nd gear or in less than 3 hours. Well, at least not in a fairly large RV. Jeff has again been given the task as his patience is by far greater than Paul’s. All you can do is sit back and keep your mouth closed so as not to bite your tongue as the washboard road rattles your teeth. We once again take advantage of the nice grassy spot across from the church to dump our tanks.Unlike most of the gravel roads this one actually has numerous signs warning about the conditions so you know it is bad. Was it worth six hours of tedious driving to go to San Blas? My opinion is mixed, 70-30 in favor.

I never thought I would say I would be glad to be back on Route 3 but it was a relief if only for a short while until the first big trucks or buses passed. A long day of travel, approximately 300 kms, to get to our next destination, Balneario Cochico. Although the chief navigator is confident of her ability to get through dreaded Bahia Blanca without incident, we turn on the GPS to be sure. Once past Bahia Blanca we are now retracing our steps north on Route 33 past Tornquist and Pigue. We arrive at the municipal campground in Cochico late in the day. As has been the case previously, there is no one else here. We pick a grassy spot under some large trees and quickly get a fire going for dinner. One good thing about the municipal campgrounds is the presence of fireplaces and running water. There are new bathrooms

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next to us, usable but not very clean having been left open to the elements throughout the winter.

OCT: 27: A leisurely morning with no set plans but to relax and walk around the campground. It is huge with probably several hundred camping and picnicking sites. The municipality of Guamini manages it but there are also many private concessions for food, ice cream, paddle boats for the lake, etc., etc. Of course nothing is open…too early in the season. Since Argentina’s winter is opposite of the Northern Hemisphere, the season for tourism does not start until mid-November and goes through March. I can picture in my mind what all these places we have stayed at (organized campgrounds) look like in December or January. I don’t think I would want to be here.

Having run short of pesos and needing a few food/drink items, Jeff, Laurie and I drive into Guamini for an ATM and supermarket. We have done pretty good about using what supplies we have bought and I do not think we will have to throw much away before turning in the camper. Paul decides to stay at “camp” to repair his sole (sole, not soul) that has fallen off his boat shoes. Since it is the only pair of shoes he brought other than his L.L. Bean Pacs he needs them for the flight home. As the 3 co-conspirators were ready to leave, Paul asked me for his passports, airline ticket, and money. He looked very dejected sitting there as we left. Certainly he knew we would come back for him?

We accomplish our mission, easily finding a Link ATM and a nice supermarket. For it being our last few days we seem to spend an awful lot of pesos! Firewood, ice, beer, rum, wine and non-essential snacks add up quickly. The employees at the supermarket were eager to help us carry everything to the camper parked almost a block away. Despite the language barrier I have found the Argentines to be exceeding friendly and polite to foreigners.

In one of the large trees at our campsite there is a bird’s nest in the first crook. 4 years ago this bird baffled us. At first we thought it was a termite’s nest but later in the trip we saw a gaudy roadside structure at a restaurant and it was of this bird, a Hornero, and its nest.

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It had a least one chick in the nest and we watched as it fed the chick and eventually coaxed it to fly away from the nest.

OCT. 28: Up early and on the road for our final destination before returning the camper, Laguna Lobos, where we started out a month ago. This stretch of road (Route 65 I believe) is nearly as nerve wracking as Route 3 but with fewer buses and trucks. The road conditions are pretty bad so the speeds are also much less. It appears they have had a lot more rain in the past month. There is more flooding of the cattle pastures and the once small creeks are raging. We actually see people fishing in the fields. Along one section of the road we see hundreds if not thousands of small rodents on the sides of the roads. They do not have a long tail so they are not rats. They look more like some sort of guinea pig. Why there are not dozens of them squished in the road I do not know. The pot holes are horrendous and Jeff’s arms soon become sore from hold the steering wheel so tight to avoid breaking an axle or something else.

We pull into the campground at Lobos about one o’clock and it is absolutely packed. We sort of expected this, it being a Sunday, so we had decided to rent one of the cabanas for the last two days to pack and clean out the camper. All the cabanas are full as well and the lady tells us we cannot check in until 1700 hours. Since we have nowhere else to go we pull into the parking area of the cabanas and wait. The lake is even higher than a month ago and nearly reaches the patios of the cabanas. It is a green soupy morass yet small children and adults are swimming in it! There is a small swimming pool for cabana renters. As we watch the kids jump in, a spray of putrid green water rises above them.

We were told the cabana would cost 1,800 pesos for the 4 of us. Fortunately we only had to wait until about 1500 hours to check in. When Paul and I went to pay with our credit card they only charged us 1,000 pesos. No reason to question it or argue. Perhaps it is because we have endured this place so many times before? They asked if we wanted breakfast in the morning but we declined as we have plenty of food to use up.

After nice hot showers we begin the arduous task of hauling all our gear from the camper into the cabana. Although Lobos isn’t the most appealing of places, this process is necessary

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after a month of being on the road. Not only does it seem that our clothes and gear have multiplied (which other than a couple of t-shirt souvenirs they haven’t) we now have the task of finding room for all the rocks, shells, feathers, bones, etc.

After 1700 all of the cabanas have been vacated but one and the campground is totally empty. We enjoy cocktails and a nice meal cooked on the patio fireplace.

OCT. 29: After a hearty breakfast of a ham and cheese omelet, nice bread and jam, we all get to work. As we finish doing the breakfast dishes a man knocks on our door with a big tray of hot coffee, tea, warm milk and croissants!! A nice unrequested service. We take turns hauling our stuff from the camper inside and search every nook and cranny for misplaced items. I don’t know in what condition other clients of Andean Roads return their vehicles but this one looks as clean as the day we picked it up.

It is cloudy and windy all day and the lake seems to rise even more. It is within a foot of the patio. We call Sebastian at Andean Roads on the cell phone he gave us and tell him we will be coming in the morning around 1100. I think we are all nervous about driving the RV through Buenos Aires. Jeff attempts to program the GPS with Andean Roads address and after quite awhile he thinks it will get us in the general area. Paul and I are confident that once we are near we will recognize where to go.

Just as we light the outside fireplace to cook dinner the rain begins. We quickly gather up the small fire already lit and move it inside to the fireplace. The fireplace obviously was not designed well as the smoke comes billowing back into the cabana. Opening doors and windows help and we manage to cook the last of our Argentine beef on the grill.

OCT. 30: Our last day with the camper and the real test of the chief navigator. I am more than happy to listen to the irritating GPS voice on this day. If Jeff and Laurie were not with us, Paul and I would have spent several additional hours trying to bypass the main part of Buenos Aires to reach Andean Road’s base on the north side of the city. After travelling Route 205 from Lobos, past the international airport we soon find ourselves in the midst of the city. When we started out, Cristian had warned us to stay to the far right when going through toll booths. As we approach one, we find the reason for this warning. Too late we realize that the center lanes have overhead barriers that are lower than the height of the camper. Fortunately this one was flexible so we skimmed under it with only minor scraping on the roof. Traffic is very heavy in all four to five lanes but moves along at a steady pace with only occasional stop and go traffic. Jeff appears to be fairly calm and Paul is refraining from being a back seat driver. Once we get to the cut-off by the enormous Ford Motor Company plant Paul and I recognize the area. The GPS lady is telling us to turn here, turn there but I foolishly disagree. So we end up driving around in circles for awhile until a car flags us down and the driver says, “Follow me”. He leads us right to the gate of the Andean Roads compound and Sebastian is there to greet us. The collective sighs of relief could probably have been heard throughout the neighborhood. After travelling more than 5,000

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MILES, a near deadly collision, unbelievably rough roads, Jeff (and Paul) have managed to get us and the camper back alive and in one piece.

We load all our gear in the back of Sebastian’s pickup truck and he drives us back into the heart of the city to the Marriott Plaza Hotel. It is one of the oldest hotels in the city and while rather pricey (US$300/night/room) it is worth it after a month of “camping”. I am sure some eyebrows were raised when the excellent staff saw the four of us alight from the pickup truck, scruffy clothes, duffels bags and coolers in hand. We have to pay for a day and a half as we will not check out until late tomorrow evening.

Prior to leaving home in September, I had tried to contact the Argentine Naval Prefectura to see if we could visit the old Woods Hole sailing vessel R/V Atlantis. After getting no response I asked Cristian if he could pursue it. He made contact with the Captain and gave us his contact number. With a full day in Buenos Aires, we decided to hire a guide for a city tour and perhaps at least get a glimpse of the Atlantis. We enlisted the help of the young Concierge, Matias and he called the number we had been given for Captain Santucci. The Captain said he would be delighted to show us the ship on Thursday as he had meetings all day tomorrow. We told Matias to thank him for the offer but we could not do it as we were flying home late Wednesday night. Paul and I walked outside the lobby to wait for Jeff and Laurie and do some souvenir shopping. A few minutes later Matias came out and told us the Captain would postpone his meetings and meet us at 0900 tomorrow morning. Apparently Matias called the Captain back and said, “Mr. Shave is very disappointed. Can’t some arrangements be made?” To me this was service well above and beyond the call of duty. Matias told us in the ten years he has worked at the Marriott he has never had a request such as ours and had never called the Argentine Navy. Perhaps it was nearly as exciting for him as it was for us. The entire lobby staff was abuzz wondering who this guy is with such connections. We eagerly made reservations for a private van and guide in the morning.

OCT. 31: With cameras in hand and an envelope full of 50 year old pictures of the Atlantis we venture to the hotel lobby to wait for our driver/guide. Matias told us to have the driver come in and see him so he could give the driver directions to the highly secure Naval docks where we are to go. When we reach the guard post the driver gives Paul’s name and weare quickly allowed entrance. As the van stops to let us off Paul spots the masts of the newly refurbished and outfitted, Dr. Bernardo Houssay, formerly the Atlantis. His first thought was they were very spindly compared to the original Sitka fir masts. We have to cross over a large Naval vessel to get aboard the Atlantis and the navy men are very helpful offering assistance particularly to Laurie and I . We are welcomed aboard by Captain Santucci and his 1st Mate. Unfortunately I did not catch the 1st Mate’s name but he spoke very good English (whereas the Captain was not as fluent) and was extremely courteous. Paul shared his pictures and tales of her former days with the Captain and we were given an extensive tour of the entire ship. According to the 1st Mate and Captain everything is new except the hull and the wheel. Paul did not tell them that he knew that it was not the original wheel. (more details can be found in an article published in the Falmouth Enterprise, November 20, 2012). After nearly two hours we expressed our sincere gratitude for this opportunity and for the

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Captain shuffling his schedule to meet with us. I do believe it was the highlight of the entire trip for Paul.

Having hired the van for several hours, we decide to visit the famous Recoleta Cemetery and the Jardin de Botanico (Botanical Gardens). Anyone who has some time to spend in Buenos Aires should at the very least visit these two places. The Recoleta Cemetery is awe inspiring. Inaugurated in 1822 it was the first public cemetery in Buenos Aires and has 4,800 very ornate vaults. Eva Peron is entombed here as are thousands of politicians, military men, statesmen, explorers, priests, leaders, writers and poets. The Botanical Gardens are a lush haven amidst the city’s skyscrapers with fountains, pools, busts of famous writers and explorers, and a vast collection of roses.

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Having ended a fantastic tour we return to the Marriott for the afternoon. Once again we stroll along the pedestrian promenade lined with stores selling just about everything from expensive leather jackets and bags to cashmere sweaters to gaudy trinkets. With more souvenir purchases we are forced to buy another small suitcase to carry everything home.Back at the hotel we learn of horrible Hurricane Sandy that has struck the northeast. Jeff and Laurie are able to get a phone call through to Ursula and she assures them that she and the house are fine while New York and New Jersey are devastated.

After an extravagant, early dinner (early by Argentine standards) we depart the Marriott for the taxi ride to the international airport and our journeys home to Belize and Cape Cod.

Will there be a 4th trip to Patagonia in the winds for us? I doubt it but anyone who has the will and the opportunity, DO IT!

Mary Hathorn ShaveSittee River, BelizeJanuary 2013

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