Parque Nacional Los Alerces

After I finished mixing mud on the farm, Gabriel and I went down to the town of Cholila to camp overnight in the mountains. Aside from the lake, Cholila's only tourist attraction is the tumbledown cabin where Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid and his girl lived from 1901 to 1905 after fleeing to Argentina.

I made it down to the crossroads in Cholila on a Sunday afternoon, just in time to eat a sandwich and catch the bus to Parque Nacional Los Alerces. I was actually in buying an ice cream when I looked through the shop window and saw the minibus pull up in a cloud of dust. There's only one a day in Cholila, so I gave up on the cone and ran down the road. From Cholila, the gravel RP 71 runs south along the lakes that line the park north to south, then out to the modest grid of gritty civilization known as Esquel, the largest town in the area.

I had planned on going all the way down to Villa Futalaufquen, but decided to jump off the bus at Lago Verde and camp there. There was a choice of two campgrounds and of course I chose the cheaper one with the reception blasting Guns n Roses. I drank a big beer while I pitched my tent and checked out the lake, which was amazing, circled by forest and snow-capped mountains.

The next morning I set out to hike Cerro Alto el Petiso, one of the big day hikes in the park. I jotted down my name and campsite on the paper hanging on the door of the ranger station (registration for the longer hikes is mandatory for safety reasons), made a quick Radiohead playlist and headed down the road. If anybody is reading this who hasn't checked out their last album In Rainbows, go buy it. I walked about a mile down the road to the little pasarela the crosses the Río Arrayanes and followed the lake shore around to Puerto Mermoud and the start of the trail. Apparently there used to be some buildings here from the first settlers to cross into the area from Chile, but they burned down.

One of the best things about Los Alerces was how quiet it was. Tourism is way down this year all over the world, Patagonia being no exception. Bad for business but great for enjoying a little solitude. The trail to El Petiso is basically a steady climb, gaining a few thousand feet in three sections. First you hike through a forest of tall, mature coihue and dense clumps of the omnipresent and bamboo-like caña colihue. The middle section follows a involves hiking up a streambed of gravel and boulders, hopping from rock to rock and getting great views over your shoulder to Lago Menendez. Finally you leave the stream and ascend narrow ridge and steep bowl of lose talus and scree.

The view from the top is unreal, jagged peaks and lakes in every direction, with a few glaciers thrown in for good measure. The whole day I only saw two people, a couple of lasses who never made the top. I had the summit to myself, which much appreciated but cold and windy. The trip down was wild, as it was the only time I can remember not feeling comfortable and in control when hiking. Descending a forty-five degree slope of loose rock doing the crab-walk to spread your weight, sliding a little bit with every move and nothing to stop you for hundreds of feet down. Yeah.

I finally made it back to the campground and packed up in time to catch the same bus with the same driver as the day before down to Villa Futalaufquen and camp at Los Maitenes. The night was uneventful save for eating my first hamborguesa y papas (burger and fries) in many weeks, while enjoying some good 70s rock, Bob Seeger, Tom Petty and Journey being the standouts. I also watched a father and his two teenage sons playing pool and reminisced a little about family vacations past (the main difference being the two sons were getting along with each other.)

To bring the rambling to a close, the next day I did another hike of equal intensity and duration (10 miles?) up to Cerro Dedal, which looms over Lago Futalaufquen. The views kept blowing my mind until finally I was numb. I enjoyed a few slices of salami and cheese and some apples and chocolate. I really didn't want to wait for the bus, so I went down to the park entrance and tried to thumb it. After almost an hour and eighteen cars, Pablo picked me up in what looked to be a Ford Probe. He absolutely gunned it down the gravel, chatting, passing cars and texting. He explained he was late for work, expressed his hopes for the new US administration, pointed out the best bar and dropped me at the bus station.