PATAGONIA DESERT

Our plans to cross the border into Argentina early did not quite go as we had intented.
We still need to exchange dollars into Argentinian Pesos and find some ice for our coolbox.

As we enter the Chilean border patrol our papers are checked and a number of questions answered.
Five or Six kilometers further on is the Argentinian customs and again we stand in line waiting for papers to be checked. After going to one desk we need to go on to the next. “You are bringing a car into Argentina, are you?” is the question. “Then where is the permit”. “What permit”? Ramiro replies. “The one you were suppose to get at the Chilean Crossing”. They knew we were bringing a car into the country why did they not say anything? We drive all the way back and wait in line again. Back to the Argentina line up and we finally get the OK to go ahead. We did not remember to check for any forbidden food that we may be fined for. Luckily there is no agricultural control, we we sail freely on to the next town.

The scenery changes drastically. The beautiful mountains from Chile, change into a dry, almost flat landscape with now signs of vegetation other than some low dry brush and no song of civilization. We continue along Lake Buenos Aires, the lake we crossed into Chile Chico. In Chile, however it is named Lago General Carrera.

We find a nice spot for a picnic along the rocky beach and enjoy the fresh cherries we purchased last night for dessert. It’s nice being able to spend time outside again.

It’s 2:00 pm when we turn off the beautifully paved highway onto the 130 kilometer long gravel road to the next town. No place to hide for a bathroom break. Not a soul, other than  the odd emu and small groups of sheep, some alive and some dead. There is no traffic for miles and miles. Just dust from this forgotten desert. Let’s see how long it takes us to reach Rio Mayo.

After three hours of hobbling at a speed of 35 to 40 km per hour, inhaling dust and listening to the odd swear word from Ramiro as the rocks hit the bottom of the car, we finally reach what seems to be the only form of civilization. The car must be perforated by now. Let’s hope the gas tank has been spared.

We’re in for a treat. This weekend is the Sheep Shearing Festival. Families have come from all over the area. The men are dressed in their traditional. Gaucho (Argentinian Cowboy) costume and participate in all sort of contests, including sheep shearing, horsemanship, bone throwing and even knife fighting.

We spend some time watching some of the activities, but with the next town being another 130 km away, we must be moving on. In Rio Mayo there is no accommodation.

Soon after we leave Rio Mayo the road changes into pavement and we can be a bit more relaxed. As we get closer to Sarmiento we see the large lake. It is surprising that there does not seem to be any sign of activity.

 

No boats, no beach. Sarmiento is a major stop for tourists. It's Saturday and many families are on holidays, large numbers of camperized vans or small motorhomes are seen here. Many of the filling up with fuel because the next possibility is close to 300 km from here going west. We fill up as well. At least that is the plan. But all the pumps are empty. Luckily there is another pump in town. There too is already a line up. We spend the evening walking in search for a hotel and turn in early, without supper.