Bariloche to Traful, 5x miles (x dirt)
The campground was loud and the services were lacking. The toilets were not toilets, but the infamous “squatters” (two footprints and a hole in the gound). One night here was plenty. Before we left I changed the rear brake pads as the rotor was getting scraped by the bald original set. I also took a hose and gave Yoshita rinse, had to get the salt spray off after the boat ride. Adam washed his bike for the first time on the whole trip.
Our destination was a dot on the map on a lonely dirt road—Traful comes highly recommended by some nice older ladies we met in line at the border crossing into Argentina. The ride here was magnificent with crystal clear, mirror image ponds and rivers, dramatic rock formations and patches of dense forest—a beautiful landscape that feels remote but was not far from Bariloche.
The last 20 miles or so was dirt and Amie was very unsettled giving me the thigh squeeze at every turn. She has a sinking feeling that something will happen to us at the end of the trip as we may let our guard down during our last days in South America. Knock on wood! We made it to Traful. We were concerned we may not get laundry done, internet, or even a grocery store out here as it is indeed pretty remote. Luckily around the next corner we found everything we would need for the next few days of relaxation and catching up with our old friend Adam Pate, El Guapo himself.
Before pitching our tent we had a delicious lunch consisting of Ravioli in Trout sauce, Trout in Garlic, and delicious mutton sausage… all at Argentine prices. Back at the campsite we got set up and went down to the waters edge. The water is cold (there is still snow on the mountain peaks afterall) but beautifully clear. There were families relaxing, children playing, teens frolicking, and one particular guy who was hooting. Yes, hooting, and hollering. We thought at first because the water was at his “tender bits” but when the hollering didn’t stop for some minutes we all realized he must be mentally handicapped.
Adam and I passed the rest of the day in Hackey Sack competition. I felt good with my best effort at 63, but adam maintain his claim of “winning all games” turning in 88 continuous kicks. Adam is also implementing a regimen. I advised push ups, pull-ups, handstands, and handstand pushups. We will see how long he keeps it up.
After dinner at the same glorious restaurant, young Fidel and I had cigars on the beach. I tried to talk to him about life, goals, and basically getting his act in together in general. I don’t think it fell on deaf ears, but I do think it was in vain. Adam and I are very different, but regardless he is still a good friend.
Look who's back in town!
Riding the good earth
Another magical land
Like Adam says, the road is dusty
Camping in Traful
The water is ICE
Mike's attempt at a Quilmes comercial
Our destination was a dot on the map on a lonely dirt road—Traful comes highly recommended by some nice older ladies we met in line at the border crossing into Argentina. The ride here was magnificent with crystal clear, mirror image ponds and rivers, dramatic rock formations and patches of dense forest—a beautiful landscape that feels remote but was not far from Bariloche.
The last 20 miles or so was dirt and Amie was very unsettled giving me the thigh squeeze at every turn. She has a sinking feeling that something will happen to us at the end of the trip as we may let our guard down during our last days in South America. Knock on wood! We made it to Traful. We were concerned we may not get laundry done, internet, or even a grocery store out here as it is indeed pretty remote. Luckily around the next corner we found everything we would need for the next few days of relaxation and catching up with our old friend Adam Pate, El Guapo himself.
Before pitching our tent we had a delicious lunch consisting of Ravioli in Trout sauce, Trout in Garlic, and delicious mutton sausage… all at Argentine prices. Back at the campsite we got set up and went down to the waters edge. The water is cold (there is still snow on the mountain peaks afterall) but beautifully clear. There were families relaxing, children playing, teens frolicking, and one particular guy who was hooting. Yes, hooting, and hollering. We thought at first because the water was at his “tender bits” but when the hollering didn’t stop for some minutes we all realized he must be mentally handicapped.
Adam and I passed the rest of the day in Hackey Sack competition. I felt good with my best effort at 63, but adam maintain his claim of “winning all games” turning in 88 continuous kicks. Adam is also implementing a regimen. I advised push ups, pull-ups, handstands, and handstand pushups. We will see how long he keeps it up.
After dinner at the same glorious restaurant, young Fidel and I had cigars on the beach. I tried to talk to him about life, goals, and basically getting his act in together in general. I don’t think it fell on deaf ears, but I do think it was in vain. Adam and I are very different, but regardless he is still a good friend.
Bariloche
Look who's back in town!
Riding the good earth
Another magical land
Like Adam says, the road is dusty
Camping in Traful
The water is ICE
Mike's attempt at a Quilmes comercial
posted by Pedro and Maria at 10:29 AM
1 Comments:
I finally know what I want to be when Im all grown up. YOU GUYS! your trip is beautiful, Im still reading all about it, but the more I read the more I love it. Congrats on becoming super cool people in my book. I'd love you meet you one day, but I know that that is well near impossible. At any rate, I hope you can enjoy my Eurotrip blog that I did this past Winter break from school, I hope you enjoy it!
http://myeurotrip0607.blogspot.com
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