Posts Tagged guanico

Have you seen the movie The Motorcycle Diaries? Because it’s pretty much the story of my life right now. I’m traveling South on Route 40, paralleling the Andes in the foothills much like Che Guevara, but instead of a puny motorcycle I’m in a King-of-the-Road motorcoach. I didn’t really know anything about this road (not a highway, by any means) before I hopped on the bus, but the fellow at Hostel Inn told me that it’s the best, most comfortable way to get down to Chalten and El Calafate, hands down. As I don’t really know anything about anything, I had to take his word for it. And so far, it’s pretty adventure-y. I also needed to read up on El Chalten, so one of the first things I did on my soon-to-be two day bus ride South was to look it up in Lonely Planet. Lots of hikes (Fitz Roy, maybe?), other cool stuff to do there, but what really caught my eye was the two-page spread entitled Surviving Ruta Nacional 40.

It’s a dangerous road, apparently. Not because it’s twisty or mountain-y or anything, just because it’s in the middle of the absolute middle of nothing. It’s a long, straight gravel road that passes through 4000 kilometros of flat. The book says stuff like “Bring two full-size spare tires. Bring extra fuel in a separate tank, as stones will puncture your fuel tank. Buy a windshield protector. Cover your headlights with industrial-strength clear tape.” And always, always stop to help somebody stopped on the side of the road. Our bus, like most others, has what looks like multiple gunshot wounds all over its body from taking this road every week.

More from Lonely Planet:

…rutted Route 40 is every bit a no-man’s-land. It parallels the backbone of the Andes, where nandus doodle through sagebrush, trucks kick up whirling dust and gas stations rise up like oases. It is the ultimate road trip.

Every car or truck or bus we pass flashes its headlights and waves wildly to our driver (who reciprocates, of course) as if to say, “we’re in this together, buddy,” and one time on a particularly narrow portion of road, we actually stopped so our driver could shake another’s hand, just out of solidarity.

I’ve also seen lots of nandues, quite a few guanicos (unfortunately some dead, caught in the ubiquitous barbed wire), a few lonely gauchos far off on the horizon, and a hundred million sagebrush plants. But it’s really really sunny, without a cloud in the sky. I can’t complain.

Edit, four hours later: I’m not sure what the alternate would be, as the nice fellow at Hostel Inn told me that this is the comfortable way to travel down to Chalten. I was expecting a Via Bariloche-type level of service, as I paid out the nose for this ride, but it’s more like a long city bus ride. Hostel Guy also told me that they’d serve some food, but I’ve had to rely on my (thankfully large) cookie stash to get through the day. It’s ok, I like cookies. And now I’m at a very strange place, the Hotel Belgrano in Perito Moreno, which is a granny-type hotel with dorm rooms and a little diner, where I will be eating some papas fritas in a few short minutes. Wish me luck.

Hotel Belgrano:

Some Ruta 40 Stops:

I’ll let you know how the rest of the ride down goes, hopefully we see an Ande or two before El Chalten.

Edit, day two: More guanicos, more sheep. A lot more gravel and cookies. We’re stopping in little hamlets of no more than a few houses each, and they’re absolutely dependent on buses like ours stopping to use the banos and buying empanadas for lunch. Once they finish paving the entire stretch of Ruta 40 (which may, in fact, take decades), I have a feeling these little outposts may disappear.

A stop right before El Chalten, just to take a photo:

The photo: