Saturday, January 06, 2007
Flower Power in 2007
January 2nd, 2007
El Bolson is about an hour and a half south from Bariloche. But Gabriel, Fernanda’s brother had previously been in Lago Puelo, close to El Bolson, and it’s there where we would stay two more days, before heading to Tierra del Fuego.
Now we’re here at this lodge, about 300 meters away from the Cordillera de los Andes, and not more than 20 kilometers from the Chilean border. If "In The Middle Of Nowhere" exists, Lago Puelo comes pretty close to it. I have to check out my GPS for the coordinates later, so if you want, you can find it on Google Earth.
To get to the lodge where we would stay, you have to drive over small roads and scary bridges and through shallow riverbeds. The lodge is made of stones and wood, surrounded by little streams full of trout, by pine trees and ducks and goose and horses and goats and rabbits. And a large wooden table that sits easily12 people, and it exactly there where I am writing this, while the sunset colors everything around me yellow and orange, at 9.30 PM. Next to me Mr. Johnnie Walker Pure Malt to keep me company.
Earlier today, after leaving Bariloche, we visited a "Smokery", or "Smacktory". That’s my word for a factory where they produce smoked salmon and trout. (If the English speaking among you can please post the right word for it….) The Weiss family smokes almost everything they can lay their hands on for already more than 50 years, and we saw the whole smoking process taking place. Afterwards we tasted smoked deer, smoked trout, smoked boar and smoked cheese. All very delicious. Now the interesting part is that they make seasonings too, like smoked salt, smoked curry, smoked balsamic vinegar and smoked chocolate. Imagine a smoked chocolate mousse, or a smoked chicken and cilantro curry……We bought a little bit of everything, and headed for Lago Peulo.
Later in the afternoon we visited El Bolson, and it’s true in every word they say; Hometown for Hippies. At the entrance of the city, the mayor declares proudly that El Bolson is a nuclear free community. We saw flower printed trousers, long skirts and weird haircuts. Leather sandals and paper bags in supermarkets. Bob Marley look-alikes and in general youngsters who like to kick against anything that smells even distantly like authority. If Woodstock in ’69 was like this, I’ve had my portion already. The only difference here is that they, instead of discussing Greenpeace and how to change the world, spend their lazy afternoons in internet café’s or on the latest models cellular phones.
We bought some things at the local supermarket, and later on, I cooked for the whole family a simple dish of Penne Rigatone with a creamy mushroom sauce.
January 3rd, 2007
We woke up on this beautiful day, and decided to visit the Puelo Lake and its surrounding national park. After some 30 minutes driving, we arrived at the lake, and found out that you can hire small boats with big outboard motors. And fat captains, but that, we discovered later. At the stall, the friendly lady told us the captain was late, as he uses to drink a lot and sleep little. So we waited for about fifteen minutes, when George arrived. I don’t know what scared me more; his 200 pounds or bloodshed eyes. At least he didn’t smell like alcohol, and quickly, we set sail, without paying; that could be resolved afterwards.
George appeared to be a local, and knew almost everything about the surroundings, wildlife and fish in the Puelo Lake. We got close to the Chilean border where the lake has e depth of 180 meters. The water was turquoise, really beautiful. When Gabriel asked George what he usually did in low season, our captain responded with thundering laughter: "Just what bears do in winter, eat and sleep", while patting on his belly.
Afterwards we walked through the "Bosque das sombras", the shadow woods, before we drove on. Gabriel promised me some dirt tracks, Camel Trophy worthy, and so it was. About 12 kilometers of almost impossible to drive through mud and stones. But the reward came after half an hour; Lake Epuyen. Green shores, birds flying, huge rock formations and pine trees. Close by, we saw a fisherman with his red Land Rover Defender. And as a lot of Land Rover defender owners do, they compliment each other, or have a quick chat, usually about the car. So we talked a bit, and this guy asked us if we had been in Malargue ten days ago. Because he had seen our car with our Brazilian registration number.
A little bit further on, somebody was camping, his small Ford fiesta parked beside his car. We couldn’t believe our eyes. His fiesta against our Land Rover on the "almost impossible road full of mud and stones", the irony!
For dinner, we put our trust into Juan’s hands, as he has the reputation of preparing the best trout in town. I had one with lemon-cream sauce, and Fernanda choice was a trout with walnuts and brown butter. Again, desert was a disaster, but Rosanna, Juan’s wife, was serving us with so much flair that I forgave her. After dinner, when all the other guests were gone, Juan and Rosanna sat down with us, and they opened another bottle of wine. Two black Labradors at my feet, both wanting all my attention. Between wet snouts and dogs feet I couldn’t do more than quickly sip my wine, before the dogs started to complain. We left at 2.30 in the morning.
January 4th
Again, a beautiful day, and Fernanda and I visited the local market with its local art and local produce. The art was okay, but what interested us most were the cherries. One kilo, that’s about 2 pounds for 5 pesos, U$D 2, or 1,70 Euros. Then we went looking for a tent and sleeping bags, be cause we both find that
* We wanna be more in touch with nature.
* Hostels are overpriced in Patagonia.
* We have to cut costs to keep the budget in control.
We weren’t that lucky in El Bolson; only summer tents were available, and we are trying to find a heavier version, as we are looking at sub zero temperatures within a week in Tierra del Fuego.
Well, then we had our last lunch with Gabriel and family. Juicy sausages, tender rib eye, roasted bell peppers and green salad, and then it was on our way to Esquel, but this time not by route 40. We decided earlier to visit the last National Park of Patagonia before heading south, Parque Nacional Los Alerces. 89 kilometers of Ripio, with a lot to do in between. We walked for hours, got lost, found our way back again, and I shot two films. Then at eight o’clock we found this camping. For 54 pesos we could stay in one of their tents, and that’s were I am writing this now. I got a light from one of the Land Rovers headlights, my laptop on a pick nick table, and again Mr Johnnie Walker beside me, to keep me warm.
Tomorrow I hope to find an internet café where I can post this. Than it is on our way to Ushuaia, with a two day stop at the Perito Moreno Glacier. I send big hugs to you all, especially my parents, who are somewhere in India now, to my sister and her lovely family.
Cheers
Jeroen and Fernanda
January 5th, 2007
So this whole idea of camping turned out to be a disaster. We had only one mattress, no sleeping bags, and overnight temperature fell down to about 7 degrees. Fernanda slept with 2 sweaters, socks and the whole lot, while I, who suffered all kinds of discomfort in the army in 1988, decided to sleep only in boxers and a t-shirt.
We woke up before sunset, about 6 AM, chilled to the bone, and decided to leave this evil place as soon as possible, because:
* We wanna be in touch with nature OUR way
* We don’t want anything like hypothermic situations during our vacations, and
* F*ck the budget
Just outside the camping we stopped the car for one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve seen recently. The Cordillera de los Andes colored red and yellow, some mist thrown in, and the moon still visible. Some rabbits seemed to enjoy it too, as they seemed oblivious to our presence.
But still, we had a long day ahead, and we took off, to rejoin the Ruta 40, who will lead us eventually unto Tierra del Fuego, but today only to Perito Moreno. During hours and hours over Ripio I was again amazed by the controversy of this country. Fourty million people, half of them concentrated in Buenos Aires. Endless pampas, as flat as Holland. Colors, too difficult for a painter to paint, or a photographer to reproduce. I saw today Ostrich, Armarillo and Guanaco, lonely sheep and wild horses. Sometimes, in curves, the car was almost skiing, as ripio can be as slippery as snow. Then I drove for more than 50 minutes a straight line, tiring the eyes, settling a fine dust on everything in the car, while Diana Krall sung that everything was "‘Swonderfull".
Finally we arrived in Perito Moreno, but there was no way we could find a place to sleep. At the tourist information we learned about an "Estancia". That’s something between a hostel and a farm, and so we went. If I wrote earlier about "in the middle of nowhere", I was dead wrong. It is Estancia Telken that in the middle of nowhere, or like the Argentinean say, "No culo del mundo". Translate that yourself!
As we stopped our car, Pety, the owner came out, saw our Dutch flag on the Land Rover, and welcomed us in Dutch. Talking about controversy! She had a grandfather who was Dutch, that’s why. Well, she showed us around the farm, told us the dogs bark, but rarely bite and that the house was ours. We were supposed to have dinner at 9 PM with all the other guests; Germans, Chileans and Americans. Don’t even think of being late. No credit credit cards accepted. Imagine. The generator is switched off at 11 PM, and if you want to make a phone call, be prepared to drive 25 kilometers. The room has soft beds and large pillows, just like Pestana’s and holiday Inns, and got Fernanda’s approval right away.
It’s a quarter to nine right now, full daylight. I hear the rattle of pots and pans, I smell a delicious roast, and so it’s time to "Save and Close", and "Windows is shutting down". A laptop doesn’t fit in this décor anyway….
Take care my friends.
January 2nd, 2007
El Bolson is about an hour and a half south from Bariloche. But Gabriel, Fernanda’s brother had previously been in Lago Puelo, close to El Bolson, and it’s there where we would stay two more days, before heading to Tierra del Fuego.
Now we’re here at this lodge, about 300 meters away from the Cordillera de los Andes, and not more than 20 kilometers from the Chilean border. If "In The Middle Of Nowhere" exists, Lago Puelo comes pretty close to it. I have to check out my GPS for the coordinates later, so if you want, you can find it on Google Earth.
To get to the lodge where we would stay, you have to drive over small roads and scary bridges and through shallow riverbeds. The lodge is made of stones and wood, surrounded by little streams full of trout, by pine trees and ducks and goose and horses and goats and rabbits. And a large wooden table that sits easily12 people, and it exactly there where I am writing this, while the sunset colors everything around me yellow and orange, at 9.30 PM. Next to me Mr. Johnnie Walker Pure Malt to keep me company.
Earlier today, after leaving Bariloche, we visited a "Smokery", or "Smacktory". That’s my word for a factory where they produce smoked salmon and trout. (If the English speaking among you can please post the right word for it….) The Weiss family smokes almost everything they can lay their hands on for already more than 50 years, and we saw the whole smoking process taking place. Afterwards we tasted smoked deer, smoked trout, smoked boar and smoked cheese. All very delicious. Now the interesting part is that they make seasonings too, like smoked salt, smoked curry, smoked balsamic vinegar and smoked chocolate. Imagine a smoked chocolate mousse, or a smoked chicken and cilantro curry……We bought a little bit of everything, and headed for Lago Peulo.
Later in the afternoon we visited El Bolson, and it’s true in every word they say; Hometown for Hippies. At the entrance of the city, the mayor declares proudly that El Bolson is a nuclear free community. We saw flower printed trousers, long skirts and weird haircuts. Leather sandals and paper bags in supermarkets. Bob Marley look-alikes and in general youngsters who like to kick against anything that smells even distantly like authority. If Woodstock in ’69 was like this, I’ve had my portion already. The only difference here is that they, instead of discussing Greenpeace and how to change the world, spend their lazy afternoons in internet café’s or on the latest models cellular phones.
We bought some things at the local supermarket, and later on, I cooked for the whole family a simple dish of Penne Rigatone with a creamy mushroom sauce.
January 3rd, 2007
We woke up on this beautiful day, and decided to visit the Puelo Lake and its surrounding national park. After some 30 minutes driving, we arrived at the lake, and found out that you can hire small boats with big outboard motors. And fat captains, but that, we discovered later. At the stall, the friendly lady told us the captain was late, as he uses to drink a lot and sleep little. So we waited for about fifteen minutes, when George arrived. I don’t know what scared me more; his 200 pounds or bloodshed eyes. At least he didn’t smell like alcohol, and quickly, we set sail, without paying; that could be resolved afterwards.
George appeared to be a local, and knew almost everything about the surroundings, wildlife and fish in the Puelo Lake. We got close to the Chilean border where the lake has e depth of 180 meters. The water was turquoise, really beautiful. When Gabriel asked George what he usually did in low season, our captain responded with thundering laughter: "Just what bears do in winter, eat and sleep", while patting on his belly.
Afterwards we walked through the "Bosque das sombras", the shadow woods, before we drove on. Gabriel promised me some dirt tracks, Camel Trophy worthy, and so it was. About 12 kilometers of almost impossible to drive through mud and stones. But the reward came after half an hour; Lake Epuyen. Green shores, birds flying, huge rock formations and pine trees. Close by, we saw a fisherman with his red Land Rover Defender. And as a lot of Land Rover defender owners do, they compliment each other, or have a quick chat, usually about the car. So we talked a bit, and this guy asked us if we had been in Malargue ten days ago. Because he had seen our car with our Brazilian registration number.
A little bit further on, somebody was camping, his small Ford fiesta parked beside his car. We couldn’t believe our eyes. His fiesta against our Land Rover on the "almost impossible road full of mud and stones", the irony!
For dinner, we put our trust into Juan’s hands, as he has the reputation of preparing the best trout in town. I had one with lemon-cream sauce, and Fernanda choice was a trout with walnuts and brown butter. Again, desert was a disaster, but Rosanna, Juan’s wife, was serving us with so much flair that I forgave her. After dinner, when all the other guests were gone, Juan and Rosanna sat down with us, and they opened another bottle of wine. Two black Labradors at my feet, both wanting all my attention. Between wet snouts and dogs feet I couldn’t do more than quickly sip my wine, before the dogs started to complain. We left at 2.30 in the morning.
January 4th
Again, a beautiful day, and Fernanda and I visited the local market with its local art and local produce. The art was okay, but what interested us most were the cherries. One kilo, that’s about 2 pounds for 5 pesos, U$D 2, or 1,70 Euros. Then we went looking for a tent and sleeping bags, be cause we both find that
* We wanna be more in touch with nature.
* Hostels are overpriced in Patagonia.
* We have to cut costs to keep the budget in control.
We weren’t that lucky in El Bolson; only summer tents were available, and we are trying to find a heavier version, as we are looking at sub zero temperatures within a week in Tierra del Fuego.
Well, then we had our last lunch with Gabriel and family. Juicy sausages, tender rib eye, roasted bell peppers and green salad, and then it was on our way to Esquel, but this time not by route 40. We decided earlier to visit the last National Park of Patagonia before heading south, Parque Nacional Los Alerces. 89 kilometers of Ripio, with a lot to do in between. We walked for hours, got lost, found our way back again, and I shot two films. Then at eight o’clock we found this camping. For 54 pesos we could stay in one of their tents, and that’s were I am writing this now. I got a light from one of the Land Rovers headlights, my laptop on a pick nick table, and again Mr Johnnie Walker beside me, to keep me warm.
Tomorrow I hope to find an internet café where I can post this. Than it is on our way to Ushuaia, with a two day stop at the Perito Moreno Glacier. I send big hugs to you all, especially my parents, who are somewhere in India now, to my sister and her lovely family.
Cheers
Jeroen and Fernanda
January 5th, 2007
So this whole idea of camping turned out to be a disaster. We had only one mattress, no sleeping bags, and overnight temperature fell down to about 7 degrees. Fernanda slept with 2 sweaters, socks and the whole lot, while I, who suffered all kinds of discomfort in the army in 1988, decided to sleep only in boxers and a t-shirt.
We woke up before sunset, about 6 AM, chilled to the bone, and decided to leave this evil place as soon as possible, because:
* We wanna be in touch with nature OUR way
* We don’t want anything like hypothermic situations during our vacations, and
* F*ck the budget
Just outside the camping we stopped the car for one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve seen recently. The Cordillera de los Andes colored red and yellow, some mist thrown in, and the moon still visible. Some rabbits seemed to enjoy it too, as they seemed oblivious to our presence.
But still, we had a long day ahead, and we took off, to rejoin the Ruta 40, who will lead us eventually unto Tierra del Fuego, but today only to Perito Moreno. During hours and hours over Ripio I was again amazed by the controversy of this country. Fourty million people, half of them concentrated in Buenos Aires. Endless pampas, as flat as Holland. Colors, too difficult for a painter to paint, or a photographer to reproduce. I saw today Ostrich, Armarillo and Guanaco, lonely sheep and wild horses. Sometimes, in curves, the car was almost skiing, as ripio can be as slippery as snow. Then I drove for more than 50 minutes a straight line, tiring the eyes, settling a fine dust on everything in the car, while Diana Krall sung that everything was "‘Swonderfull".
Finally we arrived in Perito Moreno, but there was no way we could find a place to sleep. At the tourist information we learned about an "Estancia". That’s something between a hostel and a farm, and so we went. If I wrote earlier about "in the middle of nowhere", I was dead wrong. It is Estancia Telken that in the middle of nowhere, or like the Argentinean say, "No culo del mundo". Translate that yourself!
As we stopped our car, Pety, the owner came out, saw our Dutch flag on the Land Rover, and welcomed us in Dutch. Talking about controversy! She had a grandfather who was Dutch, that’s why. Well, she showed us around the farm, told us the dogs bark, but rarely bite and that the house was ours. We were supposed to have dinner at 9 PM with all the other guests; Germans, Chileans and Americans. Don’t even think of being late. No credit credit cards accepted. Imagine. The generator is switched off at 11 PM, and if you want to make a phone call, be prepared to drive 25 kilometers. The room has soft beds and large pillows, just like Pestana’s and holiday Inns, and got Fernanda’s approval right away.
It’s a quarter to nine right now, full daylight. I hear the rattle of pots and pans, I smell a delicious roast, and so it’s time to "Save and Close", and "Windows is shutting down". A laptop doesn’t fit in this décor anyway….
Take care my friends.
# posted by pilgrim of the south @ 4:40 PM 
