Bariloche is this picturesque little village on the lake, yada yada yada. It´s nice, but it´s really quite touristy, in a Swiss resort town sort of way. You can elect to get your picture taken with these dolled up Saint Bernards, and in fact, there are camera stores everywhere. I took the opportunity to travel back to the stone age by purchasing a new film camera - a Braun. The name of course refers to the raw power available from the single AA battery within the basic plastic housing. Do you remember having to wind your camera? Well if not, I´ll let you have a try with Braun!
I should mention that this is, as all trips are, a trip of records: first time south of the equator, longest bus ride, furthest from home. Well add to the list, longest time without being aware of a time change. Apparently we lost an hour somewhere on the bus, it took me about 24 hours to figure it out. I still don´t know where it went, I thought it was all the same down here. There was a really nice Chilean guy names Diego at the hostel who was bike-touring from Chile. We had some decent conversations, a lot of smiling and nodding on my part but they were still pretty meaningful. And he did explain the whole time difference thing, but I didn´t really catch the jist of it.
So Diego was taking the day off and he loaned me his bike, which was a great stroke of fortune. I set off along the lake to follow the Circuito Chico, a well-known route in the area that passes through some of the more memorable scenery. It was nice to travel on a bike with a physical challenge ahead. At first the road was quite busy and the headwind of the lake quite strong. I passed many little hotels and rental homes, and I began to realize that Bariloche is a rich place to vacation. After almost 20 km I passed the bike rental place, where all the chumps who had to pay for their bikes no doubt started the experience.
Thereafter the route got interesting. It was raining a bit, and the hills were killer at this point due to the previous 20 km, but it was still awesome. It had a lost world sort of feel to it, biking between lakes, tall trees, and towering rock faces. I did keep my eyes open at all times for dinosaurs, as a sign I had seen during the bus ride from Buenos Aires advised motorists to be careful of the creatures. Another sign had a big bite taken out of it, clearly from a t-rex attack. All I did see were some American and British tourists, and if my condition was at all similar to theirs, I must have looked terrible.
After the grande vista of Llao Llao, an old hotel perched on a picturesque hill, I decided to opt for a different route home via a dirt road. Not only did this have the benefit of giving no indication of how far from home I was, it also aided in loosening the seat of Diego´s bike so that I was´t able to sit for the last 15 km. Several busses passed me on the long road home, no doubt filled with the clever people who had rented bikes at the start point. It was miraculous that I made it back under my own power (though I walked more than a few hills) but even more miraculous that my legs weren´t the least bit sore the next day. The magic of South America.
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