El Bolson « Travels with Delaney

Blue River, Ska Night, It’s Chile

Posted by Delaney in Argentina, El Bolson on November 9th, 2009

Originally published at travelswithdelaney.com.

El Bolson got better. The day after I wrote that last, grumpy post, Alon and I headed off to hike a trail to Refugio Cajon Del Azul. At the bus stop to the trailhead we met a very nice couple of young Israelis named Erez and Michal who accompanied us on our trek. It turned into a beautiful day and a magnificent hike to another cozy and welcoming cabin in the middle of absolute nowhere. Unlike Refugio Frey, however, there was no snow at the top, just horses and chickens and goats and an apple orchard and a vegetable garden and a few very angry sheep. And a really nice little family made up of a middle aged couple, their daughter and her husband, and their baby, Tomas, who would not stop laughing and smiling and looking cute the whole time we were there.

Alon, Yours Truly, Horse:

We went to bed early and satisfied, woke up to another beautiful day, ate a nutritious breakfast of dulce de leche and simple carbs and trekked back down the mountain, stopping at the exact same breathtakingly beautiful spot to lunch that we had the day before. We had also crossed two decrepit, ridiculous, handmade bridges the day before, and I was very excited to cross them again. There was just enough danger in crossing these relics to make it exciting and a tiny bit dangerous, and it was probably the highlight of the hike, at least for me. I felt a little Indiana Jones-y.

So fun, a tad dangerous:

We needed to hitch a ride back to town, and Michal (who happened to be a winsome young lady) and her boyfriend Erez nabbed a ride within half an hour. Alon and I fared a tad worse. I don’t think that it had anything to do with our looks, however, as we saw a grand total of 3 cars in 2.5 hours of waiting, and managed to grab the 3rd one.

Pitiful:
Hitchin'

So we made it back to town and beat it over to Refugio Patagonico (our first choice of hostels upon arriving in El Bolson, remember?). And yes, it was as magical as we’d hoped. Really cool hosts, really cool fellow travelers, great food, fantastic building and beds and surroundings. About as far removed from our first El Bolson hostel experience as possible. And Ariel, one of our hosts, took us to a reggae/ska show at the bar in town that stays open late and we ended up dancing our tuchuses off until the sun came up. Which was fun.

El Bolson, Better Weather:
El Bolson Downtown

Then I caught a bus back to Bariloche, where I slept the whole day and refused to interact with the entire English speaking population of Hostel Pudu. I also had to wake up the next day at 6:00 to catch a bus to Chile.

The Chilean Border, Ska Band Sighting:

And now I’m In Puerto Montt, which recently retook the title of coldest, wettest place on earth, according to the book of records that I’m currently writing. I’m starting to think that I may have chosen a bad time to go camping in Patagonia. I keep hearing that it’s unseasonably cold here, but this unseasonable weather is likely to stick around for all of November. What gives?

Yours Truly.

baby, bridge, hitchhiking, rain, refugio, sheep, ska

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The Silly, Foolish

Posted by Delaney in Argentina, El Bolson on November 5th, 2009

Originally published at travelswithdelaney.com.

El Bolson: The Fool.

Is very cold, and very rainy, and very not fantastic. I had such high hopes for the city, having heard indirectly from Uncle Kevin’s friend that it was a very cool, very laid-back place, which it is, I think, if you’re living here. But if you’re just visiting, and it’s early Spring, the only thing to do is hike around the neighboring mountains. And if it’s 10 degrees and lluvia lluvia lluvia todo la tiempo, there’s not a thing to do. I asked the guy at the tourist desk (my new best friend, BTW) for a place to “drink beer and play pool” and he laughed. In my face.

It also seems to be high school/middle school trip time. We saw a lot of kids in Bariloche (at the teenage dance club costume party, for instance) on these trips, and they’ve taken over the sleepy pueblito of El Bolson as well. Alon and I were looking for a place to stay our first night here and found a very nice looking one called Refugio Patagonico. We walked there in the rain to find that a school group had it booked for the next three days. So we found one close by called Posada del Buscador, which is where I am currently located. It is run by a very kindly, very religious, very mature couple who needed to know what our marital status was before allowing us beds. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice, cozy, dry place to spend a night, but I was ready to go after one night.

Hiking to Cerro Amigo in the rain:

Entonces, this morning I set out in the rain to find a hostel in the campo. I asked my BFF at the tourist office to give them a call for me and reserve a bed for the night, but when no one answered he told me that “they have a place for you, I’m sure.” I took a bus that would drop me off a Kilometro or two from the Altos del Sur and promptly missed my stop. By the time I walked back to the beginning of the mountain road I was soaked, but it took another half hour or so of climbing in the rain before I broke down and hailed a remise to take me the last Kilometro, where we found a big sign on a chain saying “Cerrado.” I know this story is getting long, and sorry, it doesn’t get any more interesting, but I need to describe some of the valleys, no?

I had picked up a brochure for El Pueblito, another promising hostel in the campo while discussing my options with Tourist Office BFF, and asked my kind taxista to drive me across town to find it. We found it, and it was an amazing building in a beautiful (albeit rainy) setting, but the moment I walked in, a good-natured, hirsute man in llama wool sweater told me that the place was booked full for the next two nights. Another school group. I didn’t even have time to take off the soggy 14-year-old on my back.

So here I am, surrounded by doilies, an extensive plate collection on the wall, bible sayings above my bed, and inquiries into my comings-and goings with every departure and arrival.

An extensive plate collection on the wall:
Phone, Chair, Plate Collection