My time in Mendoza ended after I finally got around to the famed winery bicycle tour. Of course, for various reasons, Robby and I were very nearly out of cash by the time we got out to Mr. Hugo’s Wine Tours that we were only able to actually tour one of the wineries, Familia di Tomaso. We biked around and saw a number of other wineries, but didn’t visit inside or purchase anything from any of them. The day wasn’t completely wineless, however. Mr. Hugo offers bottomless cups of wine when you return the bike. Thankfully, I’m not a connoisseur, and didn’t know how terrible the wine he was giving us actually was.
The following day, we booked a bus down toward Bariloche, the gateway town to Patagonia. The bus was the longest I’ve ever taken (21 hours), but also one of the most comfortable. My only complaint was that we got three different Denzel Wash¡ngton movies (who actually is far more tolerable when overdubbed in Spanish).
We arrived to a completely different world from anything I’ve seen over the past (holy crap I can’t believe it’s been) 5 months. Bariloche looks like it ought to be in Switzerland. The style of building is even called Patagonian Alpine. I looked around and saw log cabins, and ski shops, and cable cars up to snow-capped peaks and pristine lakes. Of course, the other notable difference was the weather. We stepped off the bus in shorts, t-shirts and flip flops (it was nearly 100 degrees in Mendoza) into a windy, ice-cold rain. We struggled through town, woefully underdressed and carrying our packs from hostel to hostel until we finally found one, El Gaucho, with some vacancy.
After a hot shower and a change into pants and long sleeves (hadn’t worn any of that since Cuzco – about a month ago) we went exploring the small, charming hamlet. At least it feels like a small, charming hamlet. It turns out it’s home to more than 200,000 people and expected to double in size over the next 10 years. Tourism is huge here, with great hiking, biking, boating in the summer and as a huge ski resort town in the winter.
A gorgeous rainbow appeared over town. The end of this rainbow, was appropriately enough, an Irish bar called Wilkenny. We took this as a sign, and decided to claim our Pot o´Gold. Sadly, rather than a jolly Leprechaun or even his drunker, surlier cousin, the Clurichaun, we were only greeted by monstrously overpriced beer. I feel completely let down by the Irish.
We continued walking through town, and decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner out (Bariloche is, like almost every other Argentine town we’ve seen, said to have the greatest steaks in the country). We both had Bife de Chorizo, a nice sized piece of steak accompanied by soup and salad. Delicious, as expected.
That night, we went over to Pudu, a hostel which had been recommended by many to us, but which we were unfortunately unable to book ahead of time. They had a nice bar downstairs, where we met a largish group of people all planning on heading out bowling in town. The one bowling alley in town is refreshingly old-fashioned. Not only do you score with pen and paper, but the pins are reset by hand. Though no one took the bowling too seriously, Robby and I came in last and second to last respectively. An absolute clinic in nonchalance.
The next day, we looked to take in some of the world-class scenery of the area without spending an arm and a leg. We hopped on a bus headed west out of town. At the famous Llao Llao hotel, we got off the bus and walked a few hundred meters to a trailhead. A few hours later, we had traversed around 15 km of amazingly beautiful forest and lakefront. The views of the mountains and lakes were astounding.
We returned, cooked up some dinner (budget demands that we cook more often than not from here on in), and tried to figure out our travel plans for the next few weeks a bit more. Eventually, we decided it best to head east for the town of Puerto Madryn near the wildlife haven of Peninsula Valdez.