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Puerto Varas Chile - Baraloche Argentina - Buenos Aires Argentina - Buxted England

Days 44 - 49 23rd February to 27th February

From the moment that we started out to Puerto Montt airport to drop the hire car off it felt as though our trip away was coming to an end. It was the start of a long journey back home that would take four days to complete, take in another border crossing and see a return to Buenos Aires.

The weather is kind to us in Puerto Varas and the views of the distant volcano are ever captivating.

We had become strangely attached to the humble beast of a car that we had now been driving for three weeks but were still relieved to have got it back to Europcar without significant damage. When we first arrived at the airport though, having driven down our very last bit of gravel road, it did feel as though there might be a few issues. The very earnest man in the kiosk muttered a lot about some chips in the windscreen that he claimed were not there when we picked the car up. As we had paid for the extra insurance to cover ‘everything’ we hadn’t been over fussed when we picked the car up but now matey boy with the clipboard took some pleasure in prodding the well worn sign in his cabin saying ‘look, in English too’. It read ‘any accident or damage to the car must be reported to Europcar within 24 hours of the incident in order for any insurance cover to be valid’. I considered this to be yet another of those things that you are just expected to know and like so many such matters, hindsight is completely worthless.

After some more muttering and looking at his computer, the attitude of clipboard man suddenly softened as he realised that whilst the paper record completed by his colleague from Puerto Natales had not recorded the windscreen infraction, the computer record did so now there was no need for any argument. It was great to know that this guy actually wanted an easy life and had no aspirations of becoming a border control guard and when it came to a dialogue about the spare wheel that we wanted to claim money back for, he was sweetness and light. He filled out the forms for us and made sure that the date of the ‘accident’ was recorded as having been in the last twenty four hours. Whether or not the office bound claims team will pick up on the fact that the receipt was for two days earlier remains to be seen…

Our taxi pick up had been waiting patiently and we were transported back to the hotel for our last night in Chile. The ever changing view from our hotel window kept us entertained as we packed bags for the long day tomorrow.

We had a relatively early start on Thursday morning which resulted in an inevitably restless night leading up to it but with hold bags ready and breakfast done, we were picked up again for a two block taxi ride to the company that would be taking charge of our transfer back over the border to Bariloche in Argentina.

The bliss of not being part of a herded pack of tourists came to an abrupt end as Pauline and I fell into our skill set roles: Pauline making sure that we are at the front of the queue for the bus and therefore securing the seats at the front, me dealing with tickets, paying for additional hold bags and trying to placate the other bus travellers who are looking a bit miffed with Pauline barging to the front.

We had been tipped off to put as much hold luggage into the bottom of the bus as possible to prevent a lot of lugging about and we did this. I was mystified though as to how it was all going to work with four different buses and three ferries that we were due to use through the course of the day but guessed that the justification of the US$25 we were charged for the additional bag would become clear.

It is the end of the summer holidays for both the Chileans and Argentinians and our bus is pretty full of one or other nationality. There are also the standard mix of gringo nationalities to justify the bilingual guide who is excitedly telling us about the day ahead. He jabbers away in Spanish for ages and then, when it is the turn for English, manages to compress the message into a few short sentences: ‘We will be getting on four different buses and three ferries. We’re going to see a volcano on the way to the first ferry and then there will be an opportunity to get lunch after that before we get to the border.’

Non plussed at what we might have missed, we filed off the bus at the well managed Osorno Volcano waterfalls and viewing point to pay our US$10 entry fee. The magma rock formations were interesting and there was a lot of very clear water but sadly the snowy capped volcano that last erupted in 1869 when Charles Darwin paid a visit remained shrouded in cloud.

Heading back to the road, we became aware that there was another bus in the group being organised by the expert tour operators that run this ridiculous route every day of their working lives. The second bus, it transpired, was full of a large group of tourists from Hungary who, it transpired, were pretty miserable about pretty much everything and had a voracious appetite for being at the front of every queue going. Pauline was up for the challenge and spent the rest of the day sparring with them.

During the time that we had spent looking at cloud shrouded volcanos, our bus had been to the first ferry to put the hold luggage into huge metal chests ready for forward transport. These chests were being craned onto the ferry as we arrived at the port whilst we decanted from buses. Ferry, guides, hand luggage, hold chests and gringos all departed together with an impressive efficiency. The sun came out and we sat on deck to enjoy the spectacular view of the volcano that was now proudly showing off its snowy peak through a halo of cloud.

The lunch stop was next and was a great opportunity for the ‘what do I do? where do I go? Aaah!!’ fraternity to do their thing and for Pauline to get the best seat in the small bar that was available for snacks.

After another short ferry run we were now nearly at the border but for reasons that weren’t clear, we were transferred onto a crappy excuse for a bus to go on a short drive on yet more poor gravel roads to the Argentine border. Not sure what would have happened if there was a bus coming in the opposite direction…

A quick photo stop at Tonduros mountain. You just can’t have too many pictures of snow capped peaks!

The unexpected tranquility of border control which was a doddle and by far the best organised of the three that we had been to. A few random bags were pulled for inspection but really, they weren’t trying very hard. No small X-ray machine complex here!

You ain’t seen me. Right?

Blest are the jamon y queso makers? Not sure about that but there must be plenty of them to fill all of the breakfast tables in South America on a daily basis.

It was late afternoon by now and we had already been travelling eight hours. We watched from the front of the queue our bags being loaded aboard the last ferry and longed to be at the hotel in Bariloche. That happy event was still five hours away however and when we finally arrived on our fourth bus of the day, our enthusiasm for travel was waning. Our bus was not scheduled to stop at our hotel and we had no certainty that a taxi would be waiting at the terminal so we alighted at ‘the nearest point we get to your hotel’ and walked the last few blocks. It was with self satisfied  pleasure that we snuck in through the hotel door seconds before the bus load of Hungarians who then had to wait behind us as we checked in. This got us to the bar before last food orders leaving the rest to go hungry.

View of Bariloche lake from our hotel garden

It was a glorious morning on our one full day in Bariloche. After a calm, leisurely and pretty good breakfast (where they served fruit, meat, cheese etc through a slot at the bottom of a glass screen in a kind of COVID throw back thing. Weird!), we walked into town from our perfectly located hotel. The backdrop to the obligatory spelt out name of Bariloche is stunning.

It didn’t take long to walk the extent of the busy town that had a good feel about it and once we had located the restaurant the Alta El Fuego Steak restaurant recommended to us by ours friends who are a couple of days ahead of us on the same route. Then, with two flights in the next two days ahead of us, we enjoyed the hotel pool, sauna and relaxed on the lawn by the lake.

Huge fillet steak, rack of lamb, chips and salad. A beautiful Malbec from Mendoza all for £55 when you pay in US dollars. Fantastic!

The whole business of taking the flight to Buenos Aires took up most of the day on Saturday. We were staying in the upmarket Recoleta district near to the cemetery that we had visited when we were first here seven weeks ago. Seems like forever ago and we pinch ourselves in wonder at all of the places when have visited in between.

Feeling that we couldn’t top the meat feast from the meal last night, we opted for the Italian restaurant Sottovoce within ten minutes walk from the hotel. It was highly geared to the American market and there were plenty of willing candidates lined up outside ready and waiting for the doors to open at 7.30pm. We muddled in with them and we’re pleased to be given a balcony seat looking down into the main body of the restaurant. We could see from the plates of food that were arriving to the tables below that the portion sizes were going to be big but by then our orders were in and large quantities of food started arriving. All this time and we still hadn’t learnt that you only need one plate para compartir. Croquetas followed by pork rolled in bacon for me and beef carpaccio followed by chicken in white wine sauce for Pauline. Of course, a bowl of chips and, you’ve guessed it, a lovely bottle of Malbec from Mendoza! Paid in dollars cash and spent £65. As Pauline likes to say: ‘That hit the spot!’

And so it came to the last day of our South American adventure and time for the final flight of our itinerary that has seen us through a hugely rich variety of experiences. It’s hot early on in Buenos Aires and I take a walk to the park alongside the Sunday morning joggers and dog walkers. I had in mind to go to the dock area to see the Calatrava bridge as well as the Belgica expedition ship moored there but that will have to wait until the next time we get a chance to visit this captivating city.

We’ve had trouble with checking in on line and Pauline is worried because all of the seats in Business Class are showing as unavailable. In spite of her best efforts, Pauline cannot persuade the check in assistant at the airport to upgrade us to the first class seats that we had found out about on our flight here. We were pleased though not to have been bumped down to standard on a flight that was clearly overbooked. There was quite a lot of moaning going on from some quarters who clearing had been downgraded so we felt lucky.

Timings for dinner at 5.00pm and then breakfast at 3.00am didn’t really work and although comfortably horizontal, neither of us had a great night. Nevertheless, we did get some rest on the plane home and once we were reunited with our bags, we were whisked away to the M25 by our pre booked taxi driver.

Now that we have at home again for a few days, our long trip away is already becoming a distant dream as we settle back into more normal routines. The memories borne out of those dreams though will stay with us for a very long time as we reflect on how privileged we have been to have seen two parts of the world so different from each other and anything that we have experienced before.

We look through the photos and share memories with family and friends. Perhaps if we did it again we might have travelled in the reverse direction with the treat of being on board the Roald Amundsen at the end of our journey. Perhaps we were naive in taking on such a long road trip without properly considering the reality of gravel. Maybe we will use this wisdom for next time and, of course, next time, next trip is already being planned…

But now the Spring garden beckons and there is plenty of work to be done.

Thank you for taking the time to follow our trip and well done if you have made it all of the way through. I hope that you have enjoyed the vicarious experience and it has, at least, given a flavour of the wonders of Antarctica and Patagonia.