Setting off early.
Woke early and set off at 8.00 am. We made our way up a steep path through mature beech woodland with clearings affording spectacular views across Lago Moreno and Nahuel Huapi sparkling beneath yet another clear blue sky. There was barely a breath of wind to rustle the leaves or distort the lake surface. At 10.10 we arrived at a deserted Refugio Lopez and tentatively pushed open the door to find an empty timber clad room. We slowly creaked our way across the floorboards to a counter in the corner where flies took flight from a variety of otherwise tasty looking cakes. The kitchen next to it was totally silent with dirty dishes in the sink and a blackened kettle on the stove….it was like the Mari Celeste. When lots of loud walking up and down the creaky floorboards didn’t unearth any signs of life we stepped back outside into the brilliant sunshine to admire the amazing view across the lake to distant mountains and volcanoes. Suddenly, like Mr. Ben, a man in a lumberjack outfit appeared from a side door pulling on his gloves asking if we needed anything. We felt a bit guilty asking for a coffee when he clearly had a day as a lumberjack planned. We sat on a bench on the empty terrace outside reading the local Sunday paper which said that Bariloche had suffered nothing more than shaking furniture and swinging lamps during the earthquake. After ½ hour completely alone outside the empty refuge, we wondered why some countries had a strong culture of mountain walking (most Alpine countries) and some did not, despite lots of mountains and beautiful countryside? Austrian refuges would be heaving with walkers in stout boots drinking fresh coffee and stabbing at great slabs of strudel after having already completed 15km. Was it the long history of transhumance and ancient trade routes that had created such a complex and well serviced network of paths and tracks through the mountains? We finished our coffee to the sounds of Lumberjack Man buzzing away at fallen trees further down the valley and returned our mugs to the empty refugio. The path beyond was more exposed with patches of snow and unstable slabs of fractured rock rearing up above us. We reached the summit of Cerro Lopez having met no one and enjoyed some amazing views down valleys filled with beech forest, distant snow covered volcanoes across the nearby border with Chile, the never ending flat expanse of pampas to the east and hundreds of mountain peaks in all directions. We decended into another valley down a steep scree slope passing our first walker who explained that he had walked up under a full moon the night before. It was very hot and we dunked our hats and bandanas in streams to cool down as we climbed up to the next col where we had a great view down onto Refugio Italia Laguna Negra. We stopped and enjoyed several cans of pop (no coffee) admiring a family of ashy headed geese feeding at the lake outlet close by. The path down dropped steeply through mature beech woodland, passing snowmelt waterfalls and mossy springs where wildflowers flourished. It was all a bit like a fairy tale, had it not been for the sweat and constant clumsy tripping over exposed tree roots! The path wound its way through trees, avoiding eroded river embankments and huge fallen trees that had blocked the way. We knew there was an infrequent bus, where the path hit the dirt road, due at 17.45 but didn’t know exactly where we were (due to the scale of our map) so kept up the pace in the hope of avoiding a 1 ½ hour walk along roads back to our cabana. At 17.40, with no sign of the wooded valley coming to an end, we started running as familiar smells of habitation started to waft through the trees. We had been out for nearly 10 hours when we suddenly spilled out onto the dirt road at 17.48! There was a bus stop sign hanging from a piece of wood above us and the sound of absolute silence. We were pretty exhausted and talked about walking back to C. Suiza for water when a cloud of dust and the clattering sound of a bus jolted us up and had us waving our hands frantically in the middle of the road. If we had been a minute later we would have missed it and the next was not due until 20.10! We knew that in 15 minutes time we would be enjoying ice cold drinks from the fridge and a big slab of marmalade cake. At 6.05 we had our feet crammed into the b-day filled with cold water drinking cold orange wondering how we managed to arrive just one minute before the bus instead of one minute after. It had been one of the most satisfying mountain walks we had done and we ended the day sat on our deck looking up at the first deserted refuge with the sound of thunder rolling up the valley from a distant flickering storm.
The Sunday Paper.
Where is everybody?
Time for a foot spa.
