Forest of Arrayannes Photo by Diana Reid

Every day in northern Patagonia it is the same. We wake up as the pale gray-blue light of dawn tentatively begins to peek its head around the curtains of our hotel room. We stir slightly; wide awake, but rather unsure just why. After all, it’s so early. The sun has not even begun its slow winter-time stroll into the sky. One of us glances at our watch, only to find that it is currently nearing 9:00am! No matter how many days this same scene repeats itself, we are muddled and befuddled each time. In the States, even in the deep of the northern winter, the sun scampers on out long before 8:00am and in the summer it can scarcely contain its enthusiasm, blinding us plenty before 5:00am on more days than the average person finds amusing. But, like everything else in Argentina, even the Mother Nature has her own unique time table.

My hiking partner and I spent the past three weeks in the Switzerland of Argentina; a town called Bariloche, located about 450 miles southwest of Buenos Aires and 50 miles from the Chilean border. The city’s center is comprised of dozens and dozens of lpine chalet-style buildings; each constructed of logs of Argentinean hardwood and covered with sloping green-tiled roofs, and decorated with charming wooden shutters and tiny flower gardens; quite befitting of its European namesake. Set on the shores of Lake Nahuel Huapi, with its brilliant blue-green waters and seemingly endless borders, Bariloche serves as the hub of Argentina’s own Lake District, and the northernmost point of Patagonia. As such, while relatively small, it is a bustling, international city filled with charming cafes, quaint boutiques, fashionable restaurants, luxury hotels, and enchanting lakeside log cabins, and, perhaps most importantly, outdoor outfitters on every corner.

Situated next to range after range of craggy mountains and tucked between dozens of magnificent lakes and rivers, Bariloche is an outdoors-person’s idea of paradise, and indeed, we were in heaven. We arrived in mid-May, later in the season than we had planned, with hopes to hike and explore as much as possible before the snows really set in. We’d worried a bit about trail closures and limited hiking options, but we needn’t have bothered. One quickly learns that in a place like Patagonia, the only thing you’re constrained by is time.

Indeed, the hardest part of our two week visit was deciding which hikes we’d do. After visiting Club Andino (Bariloche’s hiking and outdoors club, and responsible for a marvelous system of hiking trails and mountain refuges), we found ourselves well-armed with maps, trail conditions and gear rental advice. For our first outing we chose to ascend Cerro Lopez (5000’) and overnight at Club Andino’s refuge there. Maps in hand, and sleeping bags in our packs, we headed off on the trail just before noon (victims of yet another slow Patagonian morning). We had been told to expect a three-to-four hike to the refuge with perhaps a bit of snow, and a fairly steep but non-technical climb. Yet barely two hours later, there we were; alone at Refugio Lopez, freezing our tails off. Apparently we were the day’s only visitors and the caretaker had gone out for the afternoon; putting out the fire and leaving the place rather frosty. We sat and ate our lunch, contemplating our next move.

"The hike had been gorgeous; the trail set amidst a shady forest of Argentinean coihues and ñires, and ambling back and forth between glorious lake views and small, leaf-covered valley floors..."

The hike had been gorgeous; the trail set amidst a shady forest of Argentinean coihues and ñires, and ambling back and forth between glorious lake views and small, leaf-covered valley floors. Here and there the mountain peaks, fresh with a soft dusting of new snow, jutted out above the circling mist, and we were completely captivated each time we caught another glimpse. Having hiked and trekked in more than a dozen countries, I’ve seen my fair share of stunning mountain vistas, but here is just something profoundly unique and dizzying about Argentina’s mountains. In their presence you cannot help but feel a sense of unwritten history, complex geology and powerful forces of nature, and a feeling that no matter how much you explore, you still have barely touched the tip of the iceberg.

After deciding to exchange the coldness inside for the coldness outside, we wandered back down to the main road and tramped another four miles into the tiny hamlet of Colonia Suiza before heading back into town. Reported to be a charming little artisan pueblo in the summertime, we had hoped to visit some shops and get a cup of tea before catching the bus back into town. Sadly, our low season visit had thwarted us, and we felt as if caught in a fantastically charming ghost town as we wandered amongst the deserted streets and peeked into the shuttered tea house windows.

Having rented a car to explore some of the national parks south of Bariloche, the next day we drove to Lago Puelo National Park, where we made a quick scramble up the mirador (lookout) one morning before breakfast, to enjoy striking views of the lake and the foreboding Andes just a few miles off in the distance. From there we meandered down single-lane gravel roads through the desolate countryside into the Cholila Valley where we hopped a small barbed-wire fence and made the day’s trek across various farm pastures to pay homage to Butch Cassidy’s former residence, where he, Sundance and Etta Place made their home for several years in the early 1900s. Not much to look at anymore, the ramshackle cabin still receives thousands of visitors each year and keeps the mystery of one of America’s favorite legends alive.

Driving further south we entered one of Argentina’s largest national parks, Parque de Los Alerces, a massive outdoor playground located on the mountainous border between Chile and Argentina. Covering some 263,000 hectares, the park is home to half a dozen lakes, several rivers, excellent fishing, hundreds of miles of hiking trails, and one of Argentina’s most gigantic species of trees - the alerce, or Patagonian cypress. Magnificent examples of the alerce found in the park reach as high as 180 feet in height and nine feet in diameter, with trees reported as old as 3,000 years of age.

Settling into one of several cozy log cabins at Cabañas Tejas Negras on the shores of Lake Futalaufquen, we blissed out by the fireplace and enjoyed scenic mountain vistas from our living room. If Patagonia does one thing exceptionally well besides outdoor life (and great food), it is the log cabin, and our latest retreat was no exception. For US $40 a night we had a huge, two-story, charmingly decorated cabin with a full kitchen, fireplace, down comforters and the works.

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