Getting about in Patagonia

So I wasn´t going to mention this (and I know a few of you have already worked it out) but the majority of our travel through Patagonia has been done by hitch-hiking. I can assure you now that those days are over, but the lift we were offered from El Calafate to El Chaltén cannot possibly go without mention...

...The road to El Chaltén has not actually been finished yet, but the rickety old dirt track only added charm to our journey in a 25 year old, just as rickety Mercedes truck! From Puerto Natales we took a bus over the border into Argentina where we found a lift with a young girl in an ute to somewhere in the middle of nowhere! A quick stop to fill our tummies with empanadas we found another lift with a business man into Calafate. I can´t remember what his name was now, but he said if we had any trouble getting to El Chaltén we should call on his hotel in the morning. After another dusty night in our ´favorite´ campsite we woke to a strange ´muffled´ load speaker rambling which we ignored to stock up on supplies and walked to a good vantage point to hitch.

We had a few people stop for us but they weren´t going in the right direction. Now we were quite picky with our selection of motor vehicles. One only really wants to travel in style after all. It was when a rather old, beaten up looking bus pulled over that Liz turned around and asked if I had my thumb up. I said no, but I knew they had stopped for us anyway as I saw one of the lads give me the thumbs up. Liz ran to the cab and started negotiations and I presumptuously started heaving the packs towards the back door. We were Chaltén bound!

Back in my Buenos Airies blog you may remember me explaining how all of the household rubbish is put on the streets every night and sorted through by the people that live in the suburbs. From there, it´s taken to a recycling centre and the people get paid for whatever they collect. It´s a great little scheme to keep the city tidy and to give the poor a chance at survival in a very brutal world. Our new friends have taken this process a few steps further and have converted their bus into a mobile recycling enterprise, which not only includes Buenos Airies (their home) but the whole of Patagonia! They travel as far south as Rio Gallegos and back again, stopping at every possibility where there may be rubbish that needs sorting. I found the whole project to be quite desperate as they showed us huge bags of aluminium cans that they would exchange for approximately six Argentinian pesos (35p or NZ$1) each! I´m not sure how long it would take them to fill up these bags but for a price of a cup of tea you really have to consider how they support their families back home. I really sympathised with them as being on the road all of the time not knowing where/when your next income was coming must really take its toll. This said, I could see that they are very proud of their insight to have been able to create opportunities for themselves like no others. They had even rigged up a loud speaker system so that they could advertise their presence and ask the locals to come out and donate their empties. Ahhhhhh, Liz and I looked and laughed at each other as it dawned on us that it was them that woke us up that morning! Our friends laughed with us possibly wondering why we get up so late. At one point they also joked that we might see the same opportunity to fund our trip, buy a better bus and beat them around the course at their own game. I assured them that their business would never meet any harm from us at made a note to myself to keep my ´recyclables´ separate when I through out the rubbish.

With packs firmly secured in the back of the bus, Liz and I were invited to share a rickety old chair that was barely nailed to the floor in the front! I managed to stop myself from looking for any acknowledgement of a warrant of fitness sticker as I am sure what I don´t know won´t hurt me. The police were happy enough to wave us through the first stop and that was good enough for me! Not a moment after we were settled when out came the little gas cooker and we all became acquainted over our first round of maté. Having not been a fan of the drink in the past I was becoming quite accustomed to its taste (especially when sugar is added) and by the time we finished the forth of fifth round, out came the facturas (danish pastries). I´m not sure if I´ve mentioned this before, but to refuse small forms of hospitality in South America can often cause offence, so I was very humbled to be offered such treats when clearly these people were scraping the barrel to make ends meet.
And we weren´t exactly travelling with the sprightliest of chaps. Short of a shower or two the team was made up of two brothers and a family friend; all in dire need of new clothes and a few sessions in the chair of oral doom (my god, my dentist would make a fortune out of this unlikely trio)! Nevertheless these people have beautiful hearts. They spoke with passion about their country and were interested in hearing about ours. The material things in life didn´t really appear to matter to them and for the entire journey they shared jokes with us and always had smiles on their faces.

The journey took about three hours and I enjoyed every minute of it. As we chatted about the local history and adventures of our trip, two of the lads tidied up the back of the bus and sorted out cans from batteries and paper and plastic and as the road became more windy with many twists and turns, we were offered bread rolls and yes, another round of maté.

We made a couple of stops (one in the middle of nowhere) to pick up some more rubbish. It was at another stop that we spotted a couple of bicycles loaded up to the nines. How ludicrous that anyone would want to cycle this track! The howling wind was almost always against you, that even slightest progress would appear demeaning. The boys were laughing at the site of the two wheelers too, saying that there were always a few crazy tourists around. I was thankful that I hadn´t chosen a cycling holiday and that riding in style in the front of our Mercedes chariot was just perfect! I couldn´t believe my eyes when I saw Mike (an American chap that I got reacquainted with in a supermarket in Puerto Natales) coming out of the little store and started saddling up on the said bikes! It took them three very heart wrenching days to bike that road and I remember at the time wanting to ask the bin men if we could take them with us, but somehow picking up two boys would cramp their style somewhat! We bade farewell and said buenos suerte (good look)!

The views as we approached El Chaltén were just beautiful. I´m sure it just wouldn´t have been the same on a luxury coach. We had front row seats and as our jaws dropped and a few ´wows´came out our friends were delighted we approved.
When we did actually arrive in El Chaltén the boys told us where to find the good stores and made a joke that they´d be waking us up again in the morning!
I was sad to say goodbye to them and remembered a bottle of wine I had secretly stashed at the bottom of my pack. I was going to surprise Liz with it atop a mountain somewhere, but clearly it was needed and would be well appreciated elsewhere. When I offered it to our driver, he just wouldn´t take it. When I started to insist he told me that it was ours to enjoy and when Liz explained that they had given us so much it was the least we could do, he declined the offer again. Well I got very upset with him and so just left the bottle on the steps of the truck and walked away. He said he would give it to his friend, the one that was travelling with them. Liz and I were relieved by that as we both knew it may ease the pain he was having with his bleeding, swollen gums! And so to El Chaltén....