Mountains, and Lakes and...the Sound of Music?

If pretirement was my lofty idea, Mér has taken it to new heights by having us sprint up every peak south of the equator.

I rejoined Mscott and our third musketeer Louise in Bariloche, a ski-resort town at the northern edge of Patagonia that looks more like the Epcot imitation of Switzerland come to life than anything in South America. Complete with glimmering lakes, snow-capped peaks, and budding wildflowers so bright that if they weren´t natural they´d be gaudy (as Louise says), the scenic backdrop overwhelms the lame attempt at being European and makes this place astounding.

My first foray back into hiking since the great American road-trip involved a 25km trek circling a mountain ridge, climbing 400 meters through snow to a frozen lake and scrambling for 2 hours on a cliff-side ridge atop the Andes with views to Chile. We could see lakes, volcanoes, mountains, rivers, and the babushkas from the chocolate shop in Bariloche. Not a bad leg-stretch after 48-hours of travel. And of course, in Argentina fashion, we treated ourselves to a nice Bife de Chorizo and fries with red wine for dinner.

We spent the next couple days renting a car, winding dirt roads through the seven lake district. More lakes, more mountains, more flowers, more weird swiss chalet towns...and found ourselves in need of re-connecting with ¨the real Argentina¨ by the end of the week. So, we went to a jazz festival in a hippie mountain town specializing in micro-breweries...ok, so we´re expanding our view of Argentina.

El Bolson (said hippie town) was a great place to stop. After being greeted heartily by the local drunk we knew we´d like it there. The beers are good, the trout is spectacular, and the lamb rivals the beef. All this left us wondering: why with the natural resources, italian, spanish and welsh influence, and seeming ability to do everything else (but govern and manage money...) SO well, can we not find a decent piece of cheese in this country? It´s a travesty...and perhaps a market opportunity...Cowgirl Creamery, do you hear me?

But back to those mountains. Having unleashed his inner mountain goat, MScott led us (and half the Israeli army: they´re everywhere!) on two more great hikes. Our first took us across two sketchy bridges (imagine me feeling like Shelly Long from Troop Beverly Hills trappend on an Indiana Jones set) to an amazing blue river canyon where Caribbean colored clear waters lured MScott to jump in to a 33 degree river...twice. Don´t pity him. Fool me once... The next day, we ventured out again to climb a peak with view of the Patagonian desert, Chile, lakes, and a snow-capped range. But first we had to spend 3 hours walking up a mountain face at a 45 degree angle, lamenting that Argentinians seem not to believe in switchbacks. The views were well worth the 8-hour hike...until MScott suggested we jog back. I was only a little bit horrified before I strapped on my i-pod, ran down the mountain road, and wondered what I was being punished for.

From our start in El Bolson being greeted heartily by the town drunk to the finish having to remove Louise from a man who could only be the town drunk´s drunker father insisting she was missing out on an important cultural exchange with a Latin American lover, we thoroughly enjoyed our time. We´re now nearing the end of a 30-hour journey to the end of the world during which we´ve enjoyed: I now Pronounce you Chuck and Larry, Die Hard 4, and White Chicks. I just hope we eventually get to see something I haven´t already memorized it´s so good!!