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El Bolson to Monte Aymond

El Bolson to Monte Aymond

As we travelled on from El Bolsón, I knew that El Bolsón was/is the hippie capital of Argentina. As in Germany, it dated back to the 60s and 70s. I certainly didn't notice much of it. 

If the region had a striking mountain panorama, this changed when I turned off onto the RP 71 south of Epuyen. The striking panorama from before changed to an expansive foothill region with lupines and gorse wherever you looked. I had arrived at the Parque Nacional Los Alerces

What I liked was that although the park is touristy, it's nothing like the Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi. I did see a delegation from the white fleet at a campsite and 2 or 3 buses, but that was about it. Hikers, cyclists, anglers and water sports enthusiasts are to be found here. The first major lake is Lago Rivadavia with Cholila. I bought an Argentinian version of Berliners there, really delicious!

I was visibly impressed by Lago Futalaufquen. Hiking trails, picnic areas, fantastic views and all this at 500 meters above sea level. I limited my attempt at a hike at Villa Futalaufquen to 5 kilometers, because if I understood correctly, the other option would have been 50 kilometers

I continued south via Trevelin. I spent as little time as possible on the RN40 and never regretted it. I just don't understand the hype about the RN40! Via the RP17 and later the RP44, I entered the world of the sophisticated Argentinian cattle breeders. Huge estancia can be admired from the road. These are picturesquely embedded in unspeakably large pastures, surrounded by hills, lakes and rivers. 

After Corcovado, I felt a bit like I was in Yellowstone, the US movie. I suspect that the number of cows per km2 was significantly higher than the number of people living here. 

At some point along the route we climbed a pass and the wooded pastures became a plateau, bordered to the west by the Andes and Chile. To the east, this plateau seemed to go on and on. I saw no end on the horizon.

Up to Lago Palena or Vintter, I encountered 4 cars and 1 motorcycle. The closer I got to Lago Palena, the fewer animals and people there were, but more and more trees and stones. The forest up here had been planted by human hands, as meticulously straight as the rows of pine trees stood in this untouched nature.

The pitch at Lago Palena was breathtaking. On the 2nd day, I realized that I hadn't heard a human-made sound for over 4 hours. I just sat there and waited for the first car or motorcycle. Only in Greenland had I experienced something like this before.

In the mountains, the evenings were light until 21:00, but from 19:00 a cold, nasty wind blew from the west. It was the same at Lago Palena.

When it took me 15 minutes to clear the windshield of ice on the second morning, I knew it was time to head into the lowlands and towards the Atlantic.

So off I went along the RP19 to the RN40 near Gobernador Costa. I hadn't heard of the place before and had actually forgotten all about it. There's not much more to say about it.

While the RN40 had been perfectly paved at the start of the day, a surprise awaited me at Los Tamariscos. Firstly, a sign indicating damage over the next 50 km and secondly, a man gesticulating wildly next to his camper van. I had to stop because there were huge, deep potholes just 20 m in front of him, 5 m in front of me. He made it clear to me that I had to drive very slowly, because it wasn't going to get any better.

Smiling inwardly, I drove on. But the man had been so right. The next 50 km took an eternity, even though it was only 2 hours. There were sections of reasonably good asphalt alternating with an unspeakable number of large potholes. For me, this was by far the worst kind of road. There was even a gravel road 50 m off the RN40, but I hadn't taken it. Oh yes, I was on the new RN40. The old RN40 runs further west. Should probably have taken that one.

I would say that the gravel section of the RN40 between Bardas Blancas and Laguna Coipo Lauquen was much easier to ride. 

I arrived in Sarmiento that day pretty exhausted. It had taken me about 6 hours to cover 370 km. The campsite at Lago Musters, the second largest lake in South America, was beautiful. Right on the gravel shore, behind a few trees. 

Around 19:00, the last of the locals disappeared and I was once again on my own. But it was still 20 degrees. The usual wind also set in a little later. But when the wind did start, it blew until the next morning. Strong gusts shook the camper and gave me a difficult night. I was already awake at 6 a.m. because the wind didn't allow me a good night's sleep.

I gave up at 9:00 and drove to the Bosque Petrificado Sarmiento. The small park was almost on the way and so I looked at petrified trees in a former Jurassic sea. It looked like the little brother of the Parque Provincial Ischigualasto. 

It was quite nice, but not a real burner. I found the guanacos and my first nandu more interesting. I tried to find the nandu family with the drone in this big nothing. Although it didn't take me 4 minutes for the drone to start searching. I had no chance. 

On the RN26 I then drove past the fracking fields of YPF to Comodoro Rivadavia.  The whole landscape between the RN40 and the Atlantic coast was rather monotonous and the fracking fields didn't make it any better. Today I know that the Argentinians call this region the Estepa, wasteland.  And Comodoro Rivadavia, and later Caleta Olivia, are functional towns. Not really beautiful, but they have everything you need to live. But I didn't want to stay here either.

I had arrived in the Santa Cruz province. After Buenos Aires, Santa Cruz is the second largest province in Argentina in terms of area. Around 275'000 inhabitants live here on an area of 243'943 km².  Of these, 240'000 live in the 10 cities, as there are no more. This means that the majority of the province is deserted. And over the next few days I saw this yawning emptiness. 

I continued south on the RN3. I would say this was the road with the most traffic so far, mainly trucks and pickups. My convoy struggled up every hill behind an old truck at only 40 km/h. Even the endless beaches, which were less than 100 m to my left, didn't improve my mood.  

But the sea lions at Mirante de Lobos Marinhos saved my day. Good weather and I was less than 50 m away from the sea lions. The old RN3 protects you a little from the wind and truck noise, but not much. 

I had arranged to go on a boat trip to Isla Pinguino with Ute and Stefan. We were to set off from Porto Deseado with Darwin Expediciones. Porto Deseado is one of the big towns with around 15'000 inhabitants who live mainly from tourism and fishing. I suspect that without the Parque Marino Isla Pingüino, no tourist would come here on purpose!

I'll write a separate post about the tour to Parque Marino Isla Pingüino.

When it was time to move on, I wanted to save myself the 125 km to the RN3 on the way to Tierra del Fuego and looked for a parking space on the coast. At Bahía Laura, to be precise. I was able to use the RP47 for this

I was positively amazed at the quality of the RP47. I drove through the middle of nowhere at up to 80 km/h. Every now and then there was a sign for a estancia , but even if you follow the sign for 2-3 km, you don't see any houses. Every now and then it says something like 25 km to the estancia

After 76 km, Google Maps and LocusMaps agreed that I should turn left onto the RP64 towards Laguna Dulce. Then, after a little eternity, which is what it takes for 20 km on a gravel road, there was a surprise. I guess an estancia owner had decided that this was his road and should not go any further. He had locked his gate with a massive padlock. I didn't have a Flex with me!

LocusMap in offline mode didn't work for me at the time. Google Maps told me to take a detour of 40 km, about 1 hour. But after about 15 km there was a déjà vu. Either the same owner, or a different one. In any case, it didn't go any further. Frustrated, I drove the 32 km back to the RP47.

I had lost interest in Bahía Laura. IOverlander pitches on this section of the coast were in short supply, my desire to experiment was at 0 and so I drove about 95 km on the RP47 to the RN3. The only difference between the RP47 before and after turning off was that I had to drive through a strange 30 km roadworks in the middle of nowhere. As there hadn't been a single other vehicle on the whole route apart from me, I could choose which lane I wanted to take towards Puerto San Julián. I also never knew which “lane” would continue and which would not.

The paved 100 km on the RN3 were then a piece of cake and the first available parking space, Playa La Mina, was good enough for me. From here it was another 440 km to the Chilean border.

I had my peace and quiet here, good weather and devoted myself to the tasks that had to be done. 

There wasn't really an alternative to the RN3, whether you like it or not! I wanted to take a look at the other coastal towns in Santa Cruz on my drive to the border.  Whether Puerto San Julian, Puerto Santa Cruz or Comandante Luis Piedrabuena, they are functional and rather unadorned.

I wouldn't turn off the RN3 for the local “attractions”, but rather for the supermarkets and petrol stations.

One of my few planned highlights on the tour was a visit to Laguna del Carbon, the lowest point on the continent. For a change, I had even prepared myself and knew that I had to pick up an OK at the tourist information office in Puerto San Julian. This was because the Gran Bajo de San Julián is privately owned. After 20 minutes at the Tourist Info I got a refusal. Something like, at the moment it is too busy and visitors are not welcome.

Nevertheless, I stopped at the Mirador des Gran Bajo de San Julián, took some pictures and then continued slowly on the RN3. The entrance to the TGS Planta San Julian was open, but after about 3 km a worker kindly made it clear to me that I should turn around now. This far and no further! All potential roads along the RN3 have been made inaccessible.  There was not even a parking lot. I would have considered a 20 km hike from the RN3 to the Laguna. What a pity!

So I continued. I noticed that there were no other descents on this part of the RN3, except to 2 “towns”, various estancias and the Parque Nacional Monte León. 330 km of fenced national road. The few pitches are pretty much directly on the RN3.

This corresponds roughly to the distance from Frankfurt to Basel. Imagine that on this route, however, there are only 2 towns and no highway junctions or rest stops. 

After this day trip in the monotonous landscape, I stopped at the Rio Gallegos, the river, at a pitch right by the river. 

My last town in Argentina on the way south was to be Rio Gallegos, where I would do my laundry and relax by the Atlantic Ocean near the Barco Marjory Glen .

So much for the theory. As the VW employee said so nicely, if you make a rookie mistake like that, then I'll be lucky if they get my broken driver's door fixed in an afternoon. What had I done wrong? 

My driver's door had almost been ripped off at the wreck in question. It was windy, there were strong gusts of wind and I had put the Dog.O.Mobil in the Wiig and not against the wind.  When I opened the door for the first time, everything went well. The second time, one of these gusts of wind caught the door, ripped it out of my hand and it cracked unpleasantly. The door couldn't open any further! I tried with all my might to close the door and rolled down the window myself. When the wind died down briefly, I was able to lean on the door but couldn't close it. It was warped and one of the hinges was broken, cracked. With the door broken, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the door handle, I drove 25 km, against the wind, to the MB service partner in Rio Gallegos. He had the spare part, but was not a workshop. VW, 500 m around the corner, had the workshop and a salesman who helped me organize the repair. 3 hours later everything was working again.

I picked up my laundry again and drove to the parking lot at Rio Gallegos. My next stop would be the border with Chile.

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