Heading south I was struck how many of the villages in Argentina reminded me of France 30 or 40 years ago. There seemed to be less inequality here, in sharp contrast to Chile where lots of people live in shacks out in the sticks. They (the Chileans) have plenty to protest about, but Argentina has problems too with spiralling inflation. Still, silver lining, our holiday was getting cheaper even as we rode.
For some reason this place in Guandacol reminded me of some of the places we've stayed in Africa - it was on a farm, and beer on arrival on the verandah was just what was needed. Lovely hosts gave us some big bags of their own raisins to keep us going on the road. Perfect.
Not much of interest on this bit - just scrub and mountains in the distance.
Mendoza, famous for it's wine is a fine city. It was stinking hot on the run in to town - 38 degrees according to Rob's on board computer. Mrs 3D celebrated here birthday there at a fancy restaurant. Total bill, including wine for the four of us? About 36 quids... This meal was the exception in terms of quality, I'm afraid generally the famous Argentinian steaks weren't up to much, but the empanadas were great.
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Further south the going was pretty easy with the boards on the Ruta 40 signs ticking down. Mostly tarmac, we just settled into a steady cruise on easy roads with little traffic.
We arrived in Zapala in torrential rain which completely flooded the road to our accommodation. This was on top of disagreements between the two GPSs about exactly where we were supposed to be staying which meant I wasn't at my most relaxed when we arrived. Fortunately I found out that beer was available when I went to find the owner to apologise for being a grumpy dickhead, so it ended well. The following morning we were woken up at about 6 am by two KLR riding arseholes who went up and down the stairs stomping around in their boots about a million times loading up their bikes. I have seen removal trucks filled with a lifetime's worth of posessions in less time. So back to square one in terms of my mood then.
Fortunately the weather had turned again and once over the hills south of the town we were able to get back on to the gravel in perfect conditions. Happy happy.
Monkeying with tyre pressures.
The Battlestar Galactica cruises through having just lost its possum scraper, happily not needed as we encountered no possums, although I think I did run over something that looked very much like a pangolin.
Another roadside shrine.
Or possibly just some creatively arranged fly-tipping.
Truckers often build these shrines to keep themselves safe. This one was going a bit far really.
And here we are in the very Germanic town of Bariloche. Famous for its Nazis and earlier fugitives such as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. At least the Germans left a fine brewing legacy. We came fairly close to running out of gas on this day; a mis-read map saw us hitting 235 miles before we found some. As it happened that was 19 litres to fill my bike, which meant I was getting around 55mpg. Not bad two up and loaded.
Bariloche. Nice place and clearly showing the influence of German settlers and also full of shops selling Gore-tex to hardy mountaineers. It was absolutely Baltic though - a wind that whistles through the Andes isn't going to be balmy, I suppose. Has a terrible effect on the bladder to - judging by these sculptures at least.
The German influence extends beyond the architecture, there is a strong brewing tradition in Bariloche and many good pubs. We didn't hold back, that would have been rude...
We woke up on our second day to find our street cordoned off and some sort of protest going on. Turned out it was the second anniversary of the police shooting of an unarmed Indian (Mapuche?) lad. I suspect the lady shouting at the riot cops was his mother. Very dramatic, but the rocks were thrown only at the police who hih behind their shields, squirting papper spray on anyone who got too close.
So, that was Bariloche: Beer and rioting. Bit like a Saturday night in Manchester then. Next we were heading south into Patagonia proper now via the town of Trevelin which is notable for it's Welsh settlers. We made the decision to come off the main road and ride through the Los Alerces national park - a good move as we were back on unpaved roads as a result.
Some nice hard packed roads through the park.
Luvverly.
Topic: Mr and Mrs Three Dawg's South American Adventure (Read 595 times)
