Boludeando (v.): Argentine slang meaning the act of not doing anything in particular, and in some contexts, the act of being dumb. This post is centered around friendship, depicting the heartfelt times spent discovering the natural wonders tucked along Argentina’s Ruta 40.

 

 

Main Characters

Delfina (@delftone)—Delfi is the magical Uruguaya de Bariloche. Always making time for others and one of the most empathetic, giving individuals I know. Doing her biology PhD, badass sedan driver, photographer, and far-too-humble chef. Picked me up on the side of a dusty road in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, and later hosted/chauffeured/fed me for the month of April.

Diego (@patagonuy)—Delfi’s boyfriend at the time and professional passenger-seat-passenger. Alpine climber, snow boarder, and full-time physicist working on radiation therapy and cancer-patients. Will go for IPAs with you regardless of how happy the hour is. Never not ready to get outside, he was not surprisingly in the passenger seat when I was lifted in Ushuaia, and was another gracious host of mine during April 2018.

Shy (@shyzvouloun)—An African-Asian brunette with blue eyes. Born in Israel but quickly moved to Tanzania and raised in a Safari tent. Fluent in Hebrew, Swahili, French, English, Spanish, bartending, and sass. Severely attached to stray dogs and chocolate. Solo female traveling South America to make the most of her gap year, we met while separated by a see-through shower door in a Chilean hostel bathroom, just after I had left Ushuaia. And yes, introducing herself in Argentina does come out phonetically as “Sho me shamo Shy.”

Albano—Curaçaoan and crazy. Well-traveled with high tolerance for hitchhiking struggles that receive my accolades. Was found to have a dozen pairs of shoes and even more novels in his 90L backpack. With a BMI of approximately 2.7, I have personally witnessed this adorable hot mess wash down a breakfast of sugary fruit loops and sweet yogurt with a bottle of Coca Cola. Our friendship began when he asked me if I had some spare cooking oil (I didn’t).

Tiago (@ti.ago_gomes)—One half of The Beautiful Brazilian Couple. Loves sketching and contemplating the world. Architect, photographer, and gives hugs to die for. Makes others feel comfortable to self- express as who they are. Super curious, incredible slow-laugh, and generously lent me iconic outerwear pieces from his and Paulo’s joint wardrobe .

Paulo (@paulo.hcezzar)—The introverted half of The Beautiful Brazilian Couple. Main writer for photography project Mirada Nómade. Spiritual realizations recently led him to embrace vegetarianism. Impossible not to fall in love with his voice and face. I met The BBC in my Uruguay hostel while they were volunteering there. Two months later I arrived in Bariloche for Delfi on the same day as they for their new hostel job, all by pure fate.

Antonella—Delfi’s beautiful partner in risotto-making. Pianist, avid reader, and scientist. Provided vital support in hitchhiking 191 kilometers at sundown back to my laptop so I could submit a final exam by midnight. Visiting Bariloche from Uruguay at the time, we both lived as spoiled guests under Delfi’s wings.

 

 

Accommodation

• El Calafate: Penguin Hostel. Wifi, kitchen, hot showers, bargained dorms to $9/nt. Recommended.
• El Chaltén: Hostel Kaiken. Wifi, kitchen, hot showers, and Miguel is awesome. Negotiated $10/nt in dorms. Steps from the trailheads. Recommended.
• Bariloche: Delfi’s spare room. Very cozy, with risk of being overfed and occasional interruptions from misbehaving kitten trying to understand the world.
• Lago Puelo: La Frambueseria. Free in exchange for four hours of help a day. Seriously eccentric owner and basic accommodation, with 100% chance of interruptions from misbehaving puppy aggressively seeking attention.

Getting Around

Hitchhiking, hitchhiking, hitching, and hiking.

 

 

Diary

During this time I completed the remaining of my online assignments and therefore my last semester at the University of Florida.

Note: Because I was zig-zagging between Chilean and Argentine Patagonia, there are breaks in the timeline and entries from outside of the month of April.

 

Clickable Table of Contents

Perito Moreno Glacier

Fitzroy

Bariloche & Around

Cerro Campanario

Refugio Frey

Cerro Lopez

Cerro Tronador

Laguna Negra

Lago Puelo

Bahía López

Ruta de Los Siete Lagos

Cajon del Azul

Villa Llanquín

 

Perito Moreno Glacier

Day 30

9 February 2018

Puerto Natales, Chile → El Calafate Argentina

Hitchhiked: 106 km | Trip total: 131 km

This life. To live this life.

To live this life is to take care of each other.

An hour ago I was crouched in the freezing drizzle descending upon the gray space between Chile and Argentina at Cerro Castillo. My toes were stiffening as I sat atop the sleeping bag that I had bummed from the previous hostel (it was abandoned by its original owner), squeezing boxed chocolate milk through the plastic straw over my aluminum mug filled with squares of oat cereal.

Shy and I had just alighted from a 130-kph car driven through a rainstorm by a  balding Chilean wearing a knitted white beanie, who was lamenting over the emptiness of his pipe while eating a banana with a pack of salami.

Earlier that day we had followed the map out of Puerto Natales, taking a right at the fork. We were followed by a pack of street dogs and eventually placed in the back of a window-less van, where to our pleasant surprise, we found two other hitchhikers already seated obediently.

 

 

We were taken a whole 15 minutes to the Casa Vieja border, where we were told that it would be way better to go back to the fork in Puerto Natales and take a left.

At one point I had a sleeping bag and a pair of shoes bulkily tied to my the waist strap of my backpack.

My thumb out eventually turned into prayer hands and desperate jumping.

 

 

Four hours, three rides, two borders, millions of rejections, three spats of rain with three sloppy sessions of rain-proofing our gear, and several trouser changes and banana chips later, we found ourselves peacefully spooning into our mugs of cereal in the cold before making any further life choices.

 

 

Argentina was seven kilometers of country-less space away. A tourist bus arrived.

A series of negotiations began between us and the driver via the border security guard. We settled on being taken all the way to El Calafate for a quarter of the price. Juan took superb care of us, having us sit on the steps at the door of the bus, and personally escorting us through immigration before the rest of the actual passengers.

Into the Argentine sunshine we go.

 

Day 31

10 March 2018

Perito Moreno Glacier

Entrance: $25

Hitchhiked: 160 km | Trip total: 291 km

 

 

Day 32

11 March 2018

El Calafate

At 10:00pm the arch of the glacier broke down, creating the biggest rupture since 1988.

Having no idea of this historic moment until after I had left the national park. I now understood why so many paths were closed off, and so many people were staring so patiently at the ice field, clutching huge camera lenses, some even sipping on red wine.

 

 

Day 33

12 March 2018

El Calafate

Bottles of wine start at $1.50 here. Having just come out of Torres del Paine in Chile, where a raw egg is that much, I guess I’m just saying that I can regain my perception of the cost of living, and breathe again.

 

Day 34

13 March 2018

El Calafate

“Papiamentu (Papiamento): A multifaceted Creole language, is based on Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, and several African dialects.”

^plus Arawak Indian.

 

 

Things I’ve bummed from free piles in Patagonia:

• A pot of honey
• Powdered milk
• Pasta
• Cinnamon
• Sleeping pad
• Camping tarp
• A lone trekking pole
• Canned fish
• Liter of beer

Things I’ve been gifted in Patagonia:

• Salami
• Cheese
• Bread
• Milk
• Connection to the staff wifi network
• Instant “pesto”

Things that have been left behind by others:

• Sleeping bag- now located in Bob the Vansion
• Llama sweater- now owned by Shy
• Liter of wine

 

 

Day 35

14 March 2018

El Calafate

Happy Pi Day!

As I sat watching the glacial liquid flood into the park of Laguna Nimez from 80 kilometers away, submerging the trails I had set out with the intention of hiking, so that only the welcome sign and some treetops stuck out, I basked in gratitude.

 

 

The wind was cold but it was sunny and my whole body was feeding off of the fire of life.

How misty it felt in this little corner of the earth, with my Indian scarf wrapping my face in a vast embrace and a few tears springing into the backs of my sunglass-ed eyes.

The Pantagonia veggie streudel was just as good as last time, and Burt added the butt-end piece to my plate for free. I cozied up in the left corner of the sofa—best seat in the house.

Unable to stop myself, I entered Acuarela. The creaminess of my calafate berry scoop was worth any caloric guilt I would later face, ten times over.

 

Fitzroy

Day 36

15 March 2018

El Calafate —> El Chaltén

Hitchhiked: 213 km | Trip total: 504 km

Ruta 11 – Ruta 40 – Ruta 23 | Time: 8 hours | Cost: 2 slices of banana bread

Albano told me he learned a lot about people and himself from this segment of his trip, and particularly from today.

After I watched him lose his mind at the pack of dogs who wouldn’t leave us alone and wouldn’t stop humping each other in front of us, I was close to tears of joy when Pablo took us to the first junction with his Correo Argentina postal delivery truck.

The first thing I did was empty my bladder in an open field, blatantly visible to three of the largest highways in the Santa Cruz province. No one saw.

The next three hours were filled with uncertainty and involved a mixture of discussions of what our Plan B should be, why I’ve been single my entire life, and the value of being able to converse with a well-educated individual.

We were two souls, sitting on a reusable grocery bag with purple birds printed on it, with our arms around each other.

Many drivers in passing vehicles glared at us, glared straight ahead, or gave the “what’s wrong with you” hand signals. We waved our wallets at buses. Some cyclists waved hello to us.

 

 

Defeated and strapping on our packs to go camp by a river, we heard something approach. Without thinking twice I belligerently stuck out my thumb as a massive red truck with two loads of pavement hitched to it came into view.

Mario with the tan beanie informed us that there isn’t anyone out here. We know. I was pulled up and seated with our mountains of baggage into the squishiness of his bed.

Originally from the Pampas, Mario had 40,000 pesos of gas money on him for this trip alone. Most truck drivers get robbed at some point in their career for their gas cash.

Albano almost killed me when I had the heaving truck stop so I could take a pee break. I squatted on the very, very slanted hillside. The views were sweeping.

I woke as we were exiting a rainstorm and we bade Mario farewell. It was past 7:00pm and our destination, along with Shy and Lili, were casually 94 kilometers away.

On the literal bright side of things, there was a fat rainbow watching over us.

 

 

We agreed that while it would make zero sense, all we wanted to do was to walk. Forward and fast.

Minutes later we were screaming and sprinting again, charging down the next pulled over vehicle. Victor let us on, and I asked what he did in El Chaltén.

He owned a hostel.

What was it called?

El Viajero.

Exactly where Albano had stayed just weeks before.

Exactly where Lili and Shy and Olly were currently staying.

 

Day 37

16 March 2017

El Chaltén → Salto del Chorro → Fitzroy Camp

Hiked: 13 km

Albano, the boy who spent the morning stressing about Western Union and the need to eat breakfast and hit the trail.

Albano, the boy who quietly snuck off to a “five-minute” (one-hour) coffee date, leaving me to angrily unpack and repack his 90L mochila and wait in the streets like a dog.

He lifted me into his arms and I smacked his face.

 

 

Day 38

17 March 18

Laguna de Los Tres, Fitzroy → El Chaltén

Hiked: 13 km

 

 

Day 39

18 March 2018

Laguna Torre, El Chaltén

Hiked: 20km

I attempted my first shakshuka, inspired by the shakshuka boys from a recent hostel kitchen.

Although the hike reached a viciously windy endpoint complemented by biting raindrops, the outside air and solitude had cleared my mind.

 

 

I paused mid-trail to give an Argentine man an ibuprofen. His face was strained from the pain shooting from his knee. I had a small talk with him and his wife before wishing them luck and speeding back to the dry warmth of Hostel Kaiken.

 

Day 40

19 March 2018

Laguna Torre, El Chaltén

Hiked: 22 km

I kissed Albano’s cheek, his three rolls of cookies, variety of sugary drinks, and small sack of milhoja pastries goodbye.

The few wisps of clouds had disappeared by 2:00pm, leaving the peaks flawlessly visible, showing off their fresh white blankets from last night’s snowfall.

I have been pulling 12-miler days on a regular basis.

 

 

Day 41

20 March 2018

Los Antiguos, Argentina → Chile Chico, Chile

Hitchhiked: 14 km | Hitchhike trip total: 518 km

The overnight bus had landed me in this border town.

Before deciding what to do, I gave myself a dose of caffeine with a side of wifi.

I walked to Chile, crossed paths with a fellow hitchhiker on his way to Argentina, and gave him a cookie.

 

The next two weeks were spent in Chile, hitchhiking up the Carretera Austral and the island of Chiloe.

 

Bariloche & Around

 

 

Day 56

5 April 2018

Puerto Montt → Bariloche

I paid extra to have my taxi driver wait outside the supermarket as I struggled to select a Mendozan tinto.

Still very much without a phone, everything had to be carefully calculated and communicated before I left wifi each day. I hadn’t seen Delfi or Diego in months. I had spent a total of one day with them prior to this moment.

Delfi was busy and I always hesitated to message her. She already had a couchsurfer. What if she didn’t want me to bother her?

I arrived at the given address and nervously rang the bell.

 

Cerro Campanario

Day 57

6 April 2018

Cerro Campanario, Bariloche

Paulo and Tiago, Tiago and Paulo. Paugo. Tiaulo.

I anxiously watched the passengers coming off the 50 bus. No afros or red beards.

 

 

I slipped into a stall selling fresh fruit, hoping they wouldn’t arrive when I would be out of sight for a moment.

Which of course is exactly what happened.

I ran into their arms and kissed them. They kissed me.

I love Tiago’s questions, his eye contact, and his effort to learn about my life story. His curiosity is easy to reciprocate.

I still cannot imagine their perception of this day as I slowly realized they had near-zero trekking experience. They had not seen snow before looking out the window of their plane yesterday.

Neither had hitchhiked before. Tiago said it was partly because he was black. He’s had his hair touched without permission and called “duro” in public before. Fuck.

 

 

Refugio Frey

Day 58

7 April 2018

Refugio Frey, Bariloche

Hiked: 20 km

 

 

Day 59

8 April 2018

San Carlos de Bariloche

“Today is gonna be a fat day.”

I love that everyone brings their own plates and utensils to Sunday asados. It’s much better than using paper and plastic and styrofoam, forgetting where you last put them down, and using more paper and plastic and styrofoam.

In fact, some guests even brought wooden cutting boards to eat directly off of, and fancy-looking personal knives specifically reserved for asado socials.

 

Day 60

9 April 2018

San Carlos de Bariloche

Suddenly I realized I was smack in the middle of what would be pumpkin spice season in the U.S.

But there is no pumpkin spice! For thousands of miles around! Or obesity endemic!

 

Day 61

10 April 2018

San Carlos de Bariloche

Delfi walked in around noon and all productivity was set aflame in the name of tofu stir fry and chocolate chip cookies.

 

Day 62

11 April 2018

Cerro Catedral, Bariloche

The success of a Couchsurf guest-host relationship can be quantified by the number of toenails clipped in synchrony on the couch.

 

 

Cerro Lopez

Day 63

12 April 2018

Cerro Lopez, Bariloche

Hiked: 15 km| Hitchhiked: 60 km | Hitchhike trip total: 1,943 km

Paulo and Tiago’s first touches of snow!

 

 

Cerro Tronador

Day 64

13 April 2018

Bariloche → Pampa Linda → Refugio Otto Meiling

Hiked: 14 km | Hitchhiked: 73 km | Hitchhike trip total: 2,016 km

 

 

ARGENTINA: REFUGIO OTTO MEILING
13.04.18
21:11

Why am I so greedy? I love trekking because it makes you realize ways that you are still the same – you thought you grew, you changed, you self-helped, but then you see you haven’t. Why does my mood and stress change as much as the fickle Patagonian heavens, following it and always wanting clearer skies?

Today was one of the most beautiful days of my life. This hike is just so *panoramic*. The fresh snow filled the mountain tops enough to touch the red swarms of autumn leaves at the treeline. Everywhere I looked there were new formations and cliffs to lose myself over. The condors are close enough to see their 3-pronged ends of wings. I sat huddled with my rice cakes, boiled eggs, and pumpkin spice bread, thinking far too much about the future, or about could/should haves, but I also thought of all the people in the world who lived and struggled and died without ever seeing, or fathoming the existence of, what was in front of me.

Also on my mind was the problem of communicating with dad. I have so many stories every day that never get told because he can’t find 10 minutes a day to stay in touch. He’s just not there anymore.

Again I return to “the point of life is to take care of each other.” A full car consisting of an Argentine family of four moved mountains of blankets and road-trip things to fit me in. We were so packed that the ranger didn’t even bat an eyelid when they asked for 2 adults and 3 students [bringing my entrance fee down from 500 to 50 pesos].

Mountains peeking out from the window between two distinct mountains. The edge of a glacial lake circled by fall colors. I never want to leave Bariloche.

Yesterday was also emotional. When Paulo and Tiago touch, grab, and throw snow for the first time, a part of me is living these treasures for the first time as well. They had the determination to wade through snow till the top. They had the dedication to freeze for Mirada Nómade. They are nudists. My Patagucci Gang is my family. I never want to leave Bariloche.

I arrived to this over-priced, no frills safe haven with 6 Argentines on their bachelor weekend and accepted their offers of artisanal chocolate logs and Mendozan malbec as my dinner. I haven’t been sleeping well so I caught up with Quelat Josh (Patoche sighting!) and clocked out. There are no other women here.

Keep creating content. Keep falling a little in love with the friends you meet. Don’t be greedy. Stay grateful.

Day 65

15 April 2018

Refugio Otto Meiling → Pampa Linda → Bariloche

Hiked: 14 km | Hitchhiked: 73 km | Hitchhike trip total: 2,089 km

Sorry Diego, but I’m not a fan of bidets.

 

Laguna Negra

Day 66

15 April 2018

Laguna Negra, Bariloche

Hiked: 24 km

 

 

Lago Puelo

Day 68

17 April 2018

Bariloche → El Bolsón → Lago Puelo

Hitchhiked: 137 km | Hitchhike trip total: 2,226 km

The maqui berry is known for being an antioxidant, an anti-inflammatory, a pain killer, and a blood sugar regulator.

Maqui leaves have been traditionally used to treat burns, tumors, wounds, and fever.

 

Day 69

18 April 2018

La Frambueseria

I started my fourth workaway.

It’s a small business specialized in making raspberry products. I didn’t realize until I had arrived that the harvest season was in full swing.

We picked tons of raw walnuts off the ground today.

 

 

Day 71

20 April 2018

La Frambueseria

Each morning at La Frambu I wake up with a puppy on my face and a cat curled over my feet.

My senses receive an explosion of dog breath and allergies.

Then I start my day with an oversized mug of cinnamon oatmeal.

I exit the kitchen and walk over the the raspberry bush, picking the most perfect berries for topping the oats.

I enter the cafe, and carefully step around dog shits and cat piss, arriving at the fridge displaying the house-made marmalade samples. I select the ones I’m in the mood for and stir in a small spoonful of each.

Rosa de mosqueta marmalade is by far the smoothest and tastiest. Corazon de chocolate is the most exotic.

I enjoy the wholesome sweetness next to the wood fire stove.

 

 

Day 72

21 April 2018

La Frambueseria → Lago Puelo National Park → Piltriquitron, El Bolsón → Bariloche

Delfi rescued me from the eccentricity of La Frambu.

I was smushed into a car full of Uruguayans. There are only 3.4 million of them, you know. Out of 422.5 million South Americans.

I was introduced to Andy, Delfi’s brother, and Anto, Delfi’s best friend. Both were visiting from Montevideo.

In the evening was dropped off to enjoy the free Los Cafres concert by myself because everyone else had seen enough of them.

 

 

Bahía López

Day 73

22 April 2018

Bahia López, Bariloche

Whats the only thing hotter than four Uruguayans?

 

 

Ruta de Los Siete Lagos

Day 74

23 April 2018

Bariloche → San Martín de Los Andes → Bariloche

Hitchhiked: 191 km | Hitchhike trip total: 2,417 km

I am given a 16-ish-hour window to start, finish, and submit my online exams. My final grade is mainly comprised of these exams.

I am set on graduating. I’ve come too far to fuck up now.

We left Bariloche too early to do it before the road trip.

Andy rented a car and with Delfi at work and Anto and I tagging along, the three of us smoothly made our way into the Neuquén province, following the seven famed bodies of water.

 

 

Despite it being low season, a remote cabin off the shores of Lago Traful called Peumawe was miraculously still serving homemade raviolis.

The clock ticked away and the was getting dark by the time we got to San Martín. Andy left us at the edge of town, at the mercy of our grim chances.

We only made it a handful of kilometers before the stars began to appear and almost all cars had gone home.

But somehow a couple got us, and they were heading all the way to Bariloche. A straight shot.

Once in town, Delfi came to retrieve us, but we got really lost. Soon we were running between bars begging for directions. Some drunks were shoving each other in the streets.

By the time I got to my beautiful hostess, I was breathless. My crazed desperation was visible in my eyes.

When I at last sent in my exam, it was half an hour past midnight.

But! Argentina is one hour ahead of Florida.

 

Cajon del Azul

Day 75

24 March 2018

Bariloche → Wharton → Cajon del Azul → Refugio Retamal → La Frambueseria, Lago Puelo

Hiked: 17 km | Hitchhiked: 123 km | Hitchhike trip total: 2,542 km

Somehow I found myself actually missing all the Frambu chaos. I rolled in at 9:30 pm.

Manu didn’t even question me. Brazil jumped on me and lapped my face.

 

 

Day 76

25 March 2018

La Frambueseria, Lago Puelo

I was tasked with a sticky, yet nonetheless effective, way to learn how to estimate kilos.

 

 

Oh, and more thing.

I finished uni.

 

Day 78

27 April 2018

La Frambueseria, Lago Puelo → Bariloche

Hitchhiked: 121 km | Hitchhike trip total: 2,663 km

I believe that upon entering a hitchhike ride, starting off with “Gracias para rescatarme” makes the driver feel good about himself. The words grant a feeling of heroism, or at the least the warmth of carrying out a random act of kindness.

To be fair, the side of the road was bitterly cold and the clouds were beginning to worry me.

As I looked out of the window of my savior truck, whose main purpose was to ship frozen chicken across Argentina, Patagonia was still as stunning as it was when I had first showed up.

Deep reds and purples were being vomited out by the surrounding slopes, filling the valleys. Every autumn leaf was delicately brushed with a layer of snow flakes, creating an overall image that was powerful enough to move a 22-year-old girl very much.

I will certainly miss how any given Argentine or Uruguayan can so gracefully drive stick shift with a steaming cup of mate in his/her right hand. I watched my driver as he threw the old leaves out of the window, forcing clumps out of the cup with his bombilla straw and consequently having no hands on the wheel.

I will also never forget “mira vos.” He asked me about my travels and to everything he responded “mira vos.” Look at you.

At night my Uruguayan-Brazilian family and I used wild mushrooms to make a risotto—not a very fast process. It was about midnight when we were setting the table with everyone’s very first mimosas, when Delfi suddenly smashed something handmade and floppy onto my head.

 

 

Villa Llanquín

Day 79

28 April 2018

Bariloche → Villa Llanquin → Bariloche

Everyone was in hysterics during my graduation photo shoot.

 

 

Day 80

29 April 2018

Bariloche → Chilean border

None of us were feeling our best.

We had danced at the La Galeria art expo party until close and risked hypothermia to watch the sunrise on the Nahuel Huapi lakeshore.

Correction: I believe Anto was legitimately hypothermic for at least five minutes.

I was very proud of Mirada Nómade. At some point in the night, I became very attached to one particular photo while it hung from the window of the bar.

It was of fall colors at a snowy Refugio Frey. It sparkled.

I purchased it. It, along with everything else I owned, was hastily shoved into Delfi’s trunk.

I hugged the BBC one last time.

Running a good bit behind schedule, Delfi, Anto, and I headed for Chile.

 

Title image by Albano