Trekking from El Bolson
I spent a few days camping in El Bolson. The forecast projected a rainy day, so I decided to wait that out in El Bolson before doing any trekking. I’m glad I did, it rained a lot and walking in the rain would have been terrible.
And then I set off on a multiday trek. And it was an adventure! If that’s the right word…
And then I set off on a multiday trek. And it was an adventure! If that’s the right word…
Day 1:
I got off to a late start. It rained through the night, and while my tent was quite dry on the inside, I got a lot of water trapped between the tent floor and the ground mat. I will need to add some attachment loops to my tent fly at the narrow ends of the tent, because no matter what I did to stake the corners, water dripped from the fly onto the inner tent and that water seeped under. I really wish I’d brought some metal alligator clips with me, because I’ve tried many hardware stores, and nobody carries them. They’re so useful for things like that. Before it rains again, I’ll sew some loops onto the hems of the fly.
The rain stopped around 9 AM, but I stayed in my tent a while longer, waiting for the sun to come out. I may also have been procrastinating a bit because during the rain, a couple dozen baby spiders crawled up under the fly of my tent to build webs. They couldn’t get into the tent itself, but I could see them. Even though they were extremely small, I don’t like spiders. The seemed to disappear when I pulled the fly off the tent to lay it in the sun. No big deal.
I also made sure to fully recharge my phone and battery pack (because I had heard there would be no power on the trail).
Then I managed to figure out WhatsApp well enough to request a taxi to take me to Wharton where the trail starts. Turns out there is no mobile network in Wharton so I suddenly dropped of the radar at that point.
I left my laptop and unnecessary luggage at a campsite near the trail head. They charge a dollar or two a day to store it for you. I never feel comfortable doing it, but it’s always been okay and so far, nothing has gone missing. That I know of. I did carry my wallet and cash on the trail, however. Other than my computer, there wasn’t much of value that I left behind.
And it was about 2 PM when I finally started hiking. I had to show my park registration at the trailhead, and they looked at my itinerary and said it looked good. Off I went.
I didn’t have far to go the first day. It was supposed to be about 2.5 hours, but I was feeling pretty lethargic from my days of slumber, and it was not only hot but also more humid, given the rain. It took me close to 3 hours to arrive at the first campground. The road was somewhat annoying because it went up and down and up and down the whole way there. It was a road – obviously made for vehicles – so the main priority in building the road wasn’t the efficiency of the climb. I found it frustrating knowing that there would be big hills to climb when heading back down the mountain. It’s also less interesting to walk somewhere accessible by a vehicle, isn’t it?
The first refuge was La Playita. It was a nice site adjacent to the river. There were quite a few people camping there. They had beer on tap. I made myself some pasta for dinner and spent some time reading by the river with a pot of chamomile tea. I got to bed early and slept well.
The rain stopped around 9 AM, but I stayed in my tent a while longer, waiting for the sun to come out. I may also have been procrastinating a bit because during the rain, a couple dozen baby spiders crawled up under the fly of my tent to build webs. They couldn’t get into the tent itself, but I could see them. Even though they were extremely small, I don’t like spiders. The seemed to disappear when I pulled the fly off the tent to lay it in the sun. No big deal.
I also made sure to fully recharge my phone and battery pack (because I had heard there would be no power on the trail).
Then I managed to figure out WhatsApp well enough to request a taxi to take me to Wharton where the trail starts. Turns out there is no mobile network in Wharton so I suddenly dropped of the radar at that point.
I left my laptop and unnecessary luggage at a campsite near the trail head. They charge a dollar or two a day to store it for you. I never feel comfortable doing it, but it’s always been okay and so far, nothing has gone missing. That I know of. I did carry my wallet and cash on the trail, however. Other than my computer, there wasn’t much of value that I left behind.
And it was about 2 PM when I finally started hiking. I had to show my park registration at the trailhead, and they looked at my itinerary and said it looked good. Off I went.
I didn’t have far to go the first day. It was supposed to be about 2.5 hours, but I was feeling pretty lethargic from my days of slumber, and it was not only hot but also more humid, given the rain. It took me close to 3 hours to arrive at the first campground. The road was somewhat annoying because it went up and down and up and down the whole way there. It was a road – obviously made for vehicles – so the main priority in building the road wasn’t the efficiency of the climb. I found it frustrating knowing that there would be big hills to climb when heading back down the mountain. It’s also less interesting to walk somewhere accessible by a vehicle, isn’t it?
The first refuge was La Playita. It was a nice site adjacent to the river. There were quite a few people camping there. They had beer on tap. I made myself some pasta for dinner and spent some time reading by the river with a pot of chamomile tea. I got to bed early and slept well.
Day 2:
I got up early – no spiders! The showers weren’t operational in the morning, so I had a sponge bath at the outdoor sink. I think everyone else was still asleep.
I left camp rather early. I only had about 3.5 hours of trekking to do, but I wanted to spend some time at the canyon (Cajon Del Azul). It’s an absolutely beautiful spot where the water is perfectly clear. People were swimming and jumping from the rocks, but the water is very cold. I didn’t swim, but I did enjoy the water a bit on my face and feet. I spent a couple of hours relaxing at the canyon before moving on.
The remainder of the hike was much the same – a road that went up and up and then down and down. Sometimes I’d round a corner, see the road drop steeply and go right back up and I’d be muttering about the utter nonsense of it all.
I left camp rather early. I only had about 3.5 hours of trekking to do, but I wanted to spend some time at the canyon (Cajon Del Azul). It’s an absolutely beautiful spot where the water is perfectly clear. People were swimming and jumping from the rocks, but the water is very cold. I didn’t swim, but I did enjoy the water a bit on my face and feet. I spent a couple of hours relaxing at the canyon before moving on.
The remainder of the hike was much the same – a road that went up and up and then down and down. Sometimes I’d round a corner, see the road drop steeply and go right back up and I’d be muttering about the utter nonsense of it all.
I was dripping with sweat by the time I reached the second campground – Refugio La Horqueta. And that’s when I encountered the first horseflies. Ugh. They weren’t too terrible, but annoying, nonetheless. I set my tent up in the sun and I had a cold shower. They had hot showers later in the evening, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get the sweat off. The water wasn’t as cold as the river, and it felt really good. Then I hung out at the river a bit, giving my feet a good soak. Horseflies didn’t seem quite as bad at the river.
I got to meet some other travelers while at the refuge, some from Europe and some from Argentina. But most of them spoke English and it was nice to be able to chat without thinking. It was interesting, because I could understand a lot of the Spanish spoken by one of the Europeans, but very little of the Spanish spoken by the Argentinians. The difference in pronunciation is very striking to me, as well as the speed with which the Argentinians speak. Fortunately, people were kind enough to translate some things for me. I think I might have been starting to catch on to some of the Argentinian Spanish too by the end, because when you can understand half of the conversation, it gives you some context to work with.
We sat around swatting horseflies on the porch and then moved inside for dinner. We had gnocchi with beef for dinner. As an Albertan, I find the quality of beef in Argentina a little lacking, but it was delicious. We also had some fried bread (tortas fritas). It reminds me of a cruller in texture, but it’s not sweet. I really love it. I ate as much as I could but couldn’t finish my plate.
I’d had a lovely evening, despite the horseflies, and went to bed not sure about my plans for the next day.
I got to meet some other travelers while at the refuge, some from Europe and some from Argentina. But most of them spoke English and it was nice to be able to chat without thinking. It was interesting, because I could understand a lot of the Spanish spoken by one of the Europeans, but very little of the Spanish spoken by the Argentinians. The difference in pronunciation is very striking to me, as well as the speed with which the Argentinians speak. Fortunately, people were kind enough to translate some things for me. I think I might have been starting to catch on to some of the Argentinian Spanish too by the end, because when you can understand half of the conversation, it gives you some context to work with.
We sat around swatting horseflies on the porch and then moved inside for dinner. We had gnocchi with beef for dinner. As an Albertan, I find the quality of beef in Argentina a little lacking, but it was delicious. We also had some fried bread (tortas fritas). It reminds me of a cruller in texture, but it’s not sweet. I really love it. I ate as much as I could but couldn’t finish my plate.
I’d had a lovely evening, despite the horseflies, and went to bed not sure about my plans for the next day.
Day 3:
I made a lot of mistakes on my third day, but I will never know what all the mistakes were or when I made them. I only know things didn’t go according to plan.
I decided not to hike up to Los Laguitos. I’d already been up on a mountain glacier, and I’d already been to a mountain lake, and I knew that I’d have to return by the same route, which isn’t as interesting as hiking a loop. It’s also a big climb. And I thought there might be a lot of people. I kind of wanted to hike something a little less popular.
And so I decided instead to complete a loop, taking a different route back to town. And I trusted the map I got from the Mountain Information Center in El Bolson. That was my first mistake. The second mistake was not realizing that there were two shades of red for the trails on that map. Red was for “difficult trails” and dark red for “extremely difficult trails”. On the map it’s hard to see the difference. Yes, the trail I picked was dark red.
The first hour was an easy hike along the river. A few horseflies now and then, not too bad. Then I reached some very clear signs, one of which pointed up the hill towards Encanto Blanco, my next planned destination.
I decided not to hike up to Los Laguitos. I’d already been up on a mountain glacier, and I’d already been to a mountain lake, and I knew that I’d have to return by the same route, which isn’t as interesting as hiking a loop. It’s also a big climb. And I thought there might be a lot of people. I kind of wanted to hike something a little less popular.
And so I decided instead to complete a loop, taking a different route back to town. And I trusted the map I got from the Mountain Information Center in El Bolson. That was my first mistake. The second mistake was not realizing that there were two shades of red for the trails on that map. Red was for “difficult trails” and dark red for “extremely difficult trails”. On the map it’s hard to see the difference. Yes, the trail I picked was dark red.
The first hour was an easy hike along the river. A few horseflies now and then, not too bad. Then I reached some very clear signs, one of which pointed up the hill towards Encanto Blanco, my next planned destination.
Now, according to the map, it was a 3 hour trip from Encanto Blanco (my destination) to where I was, and I figured it might be more like 4 hours in the reverse direction. But even if it took me 5, that would be perfectly fine. It was only 10:30 and I could take my time. The trail was well marked, and everything seemed fine at that point.
The trail got steeper. And steeper. And steeper. About a half hour up the mountain, I made my next mistake. I thought it probably wouldn’t get any worse. Haha. I should have turned around there and returned the way I’d come. But I didn’t. It was cool and shady, and the forest was beautiful and there were no horseflies. I kept going.
An hour up, I probably should have turned around, but based on the terrible map and the even worse time estimates on said map, I thought I had to be nearing the top. Incorrect.
The trail got even steeper. I had to grab bamboo to climb in places. I was on my hands and knees at times. I had to crawl under some fallen trees. And the trail was narrow. There were prickly bushes poking me through my pants. Every now and then a bamboo shoot got stuck between my head and my backpack. But at that point, there was no turning back – because as bad as that trail was going up, it would only be worse going down. When you have a backpack on, going down a steep hill is really dangerous. And so, I thought it was safer to keep climbing (and it was). Not to mention, the trail was well marked! I was definitely going the right way. In places there were bridges or ropes placed. Much of the bamboo had been cleared. I saw the hoof prints of horses too, which made me shake my head. Horses are amazing. I would NOT want to ride a horse up that hill.
It took over 2 hours to reach the top. And I was so happy to make it. I could also see that the other side of the pass was far less steep, and so I felt confident I’d made the right call. According to the map, it looked like it wouldn’t be more than a couple of hours from the refuge.
Path of logs and ropes
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And I saw a condor. It took off from the ridge right above me and crossed the valley within seconds. Show off.
After catching my breath and enjoying the view for a few minutes, I started down the other side of the pass. And I came across a sign. All it said was, “Refugio 4 a 5 hrs”. 4 to 5 HOURS?! I consulted my map, looked at the sign, consulted my map again. I couldn’t understand how my 3-hour trek was now 4 to 5 hours on top of the 2-hour climb. That math doesn’t add up.
I did some intense thinking for a few minutes. But I really didn’t think it was safe to head down the way I’d come. It wasn’t even 12:30, and the days are long, so I had the time. Also, I just didn’t believe the sign. So, I continued.
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There are spikes on the tip of every leaf
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I do believe it would have been a mistake to go back down the hill I’d just climbed. It was too steep for a descent with my backpack on. I would have been sliding on my ass a lot of the way down. And it wasn’t a “hill”, I was definitely up at a high altitude.
The trail down the other side of the pass was still well marked, and it was much easier. The next two hours were actually very enjoyable. There were babbling brooks, mosses and ferns, bamboo, and so many different birds chirping and singing.
My hat suffered on this trek
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But… then the forest started to open up into some fields of dried-up bamboo. And it got kind of hot. And there were horseflies. And then it kept getting hotter, and the horseflies started to swarm. I had to create my horsefly tent with my beach wrap to keep the flies out of my hair. And that’s also when the trail got a little harder to follow. I think I had my head down a lot to keep the flies from bouncing off my face, which meant I missed the markers occasionally and instead followed the horse tracks at my feet. I had to backtrack a minute or two a few times where I went astray. At one point, I saw a marker off to the side and instead of backtracking, I stupidly ducked under some dry bamboo to get to the marker, and I ended up with a handful of dry bamboo leaves down my back and inside my shirt. That was very uncomfortable. I had to drop my pack, take off my shirt and bra to shake them out, all while being swarmed by hungry horseflies. The trail continued, fairly easy to follow but it was starting to feel like torture. On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the horsefly swarms I encountered when descending Mt Tronador, this was like a 12. Time for a new scale. I was thinking that if I were ever on a show like Fear Factor, I would prefer spiders to horseflies. And I really, really hate spiders. |
About 4 hours from the top, I hit a river and took that as a good sign. And then shortly after that, I could see a blue plastic barrel, and then a fence. And then a building. And I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but as I approached, I saw campsites! I got to a gate with a sign that said “Refugio” and I was so happy. I went through the gate and was immediately greeted by a very friendly cat. I went up to the building, and it was locked. I called out, no reply. I dropped my pack and explored a bit. The place was deserted. There was no running water at the taps. No sign of life, other than the cat. I checked all the buildings. There was one small hut that looked like a chicken coop; huge gaps between the boards, no window or door, but there were four vinyl covered mattresses inside.
I considered spending the night there. I could have put my tent in the chicken coop, perhaps over a mattress, no tent fly required. I would have slept very well. I had a cat to keep me company. The river was just a 2-minute walk away, and I had plenty of food and a stove to cook with. I could have made myself very comfortable considering there was nobody there to enforce any rules.
I don’t know why I didn’t consult the GPS on my phone before this point, but I decided to check it then. I was at the wrong refuge. I was at Refugio de Montana Encanto Blanco, NOT Refugio Encanto Blanco. And, according to my GPS, it was still a long way to the refuge I wanted.
I shouted into the wind. “How is this possible?!”
My stupid map
I should have spent the night there, with the cat. It was almost 5 PM. I was confused and tired. As far as I could tell, I’d been following the trail the entire way. I still had several hours before it would get dark, and now that I was at the river that would take me to the next refuge and eventually back to town, I kept going. And according to my GPS, the next refuge wouldn’t take any longer than 3 hours to reach, assuming the trail was consistent.
Ten minutes past the abandoned refuge, I lost the trail. There was a marker that seemed to indicate I should cross a little swamp. I could see lots of horse tracks through the mud. I went around the swamp pit, finding a rocky place to cross at the river, and went to the side of the swamp directly across from the marker. And I searched for another marker. Nothing. I saw a bit of an old horse trail and followed it for 5 minutes, but it hit a cattle fence. Didn’t seem right. I backtracked all the way to the last marker and searched some more for another trail or marker. Still nothing. I ended up following the cattle fence a bit but found nothing and ended up back at the original horse trail. At least it seemed to be following the river. I threw my pack over the fence and crawled through. I followed the horse trail for another 10 minutes. Then suddenly, the horse trail went straight up a steep slope. The alternative was going into the river. I consider wading down the river, but it looked like it narrowed and got deep a bit downstream. So I climbed the hill. And there were wild rose bushes with huge thorns growing over the trail. It was a tough, prickly climb, but it was only a few minutes of up and suddenly, I was on a trail! An actual, legitimate trail. I even saw boot prints in the dirt. I will always be curious about where that trail linked up to the refuge, but I wasn’t about to go exploring. I was just glad to be on a path.
But there were no more trail markers. None. The path was very easy to follow, however. I thought maybe it was just too obvious for trail markers to be necessary.
The next hour wasn’t bad and the horseflies had tapered off. But then the path crossed the river. It was quite a bridge! Very wobbly but it looked well maintained. My only concern was that the refuge I was headed for was on my side of the river, so crossing it didn’t seem right. But… there can be more than one bridge. And I had to follow the trail. There was no other choice.
Ten minutes past the abandoned refuge, I lost the trail. There was a marker that seemed to indicate I should cross a little swamp. I could see lots of horse tracks through the mud. I went around the swamp pit, finding a rocky place to cross at the river, and went to the side of the swamp directly across from the marker. And I searched for another marker. Nothing. I saw a bit of an old horse trail and followed it for 5 minutes, but it hit a cattle fence. Didn’t seem right. I backtracked all the way to the last marker and searched some more for another trail or marker. Still nothing. I ended up following the cattle fence a bit but found nothing and ended up back at the original horse trail. At least it seemed to be following the river. I threw my pack over the fence and crawled through. I followed the horse trail for another 10 minutes. Then suddenly, the horse trail went straight up a steep slope. The alternative was going into the river. I consider wading down the river, but it looked like it narrowed and got deep a bit downstream. So I climbed the hill. And there were wild rose bushes with huge thorns growing over the trail. It was a tough, prickly climb, but it was only a few minutes of up and suddenly, I was on a trail! An actual, legitimate trail. I even saw boot prints in the dirt. I will always be curious about where that trail linked up to the refuge, but I wasn’t about to go exploring. I was just glad to be on a path.
But there were no more trail markers. None. The path was very easy to follow, however. I thought maybe it was just too obvious for trail markers to be necessary.
The next hour wasn’t bad and the horseflies had tapered off. But then the path crossed the river. It was quite a bridge! Very wobbly but it looked well maintained. My only concern was that the refuge I was headed for was on my side of the river, so crossing it didn’t seem right. But… there can be more than one bridge. And I had to follow the trail. There was no other choice.
I crossed the river. And that’s when the sun fell behind the mountain. I still had lots of daylight left, but it was a little dark in the woods without the sun. It was a good thing though - I didn’t see a single horsefly after that. And it cooled off.
I kept walking. The trail got a little difficult, lots of ups and downs in places where the river canyon narrowed, but I think for the most part, I was just tired and getting dehydrated.
And I kept checking the GPS on my phone. I was making progress, but it was slower than I would have liked. And it really didn’t feel like I was headed for the refuge.
Eventually, I reached a point directly opposite the river from Encanto Blanco, my intended destination. But it wasn’t very close according to my GPS and I couldn’t see it. The river was a couple hundred meters below me and I had no way of getting down there to cross it.
So… that meant heading all the way back to town. Camping was out of the question because I was out of water. I was already into the chewing gum.
Eventually I saw a sign pointing to Familia Tilleria, which was originally supposed to be my final destination on the following day. And according to the map that I’d lost all faith in, it was a 3.5 hour climb from there to where I was, but I was going downhill. At any rate, I had to keep a fast pace if I wanted to arrive before dark.
The path widened and turned to soft dirt; I was able to move pretty fast, almost jogging downhill in a few spots. I eventually came across a tiny stream where I refilled my water bottle and threw in a purifying tablet. I didn’t wait the full 30 minutes before drinking the water, I think I made it almost 20 and I didn’t get sick, so… that’s good.
The road eventually dumped me out into a huge field with horses and dogs and houses with satellite dishes. I had to climb to the top of the hill before I saw any people. I think this was Familia Tilleria. A man came out to greet me. He asked where I came from and if I wanted anything to eat. All I wanted was a taxi. He said there was a telephone somewhere back down the hill, or it was about 3 or 4 kilometers back to Wharton on the highway. I kept walking. At least now I was on the highway.
A look back from the highway
I was hoping maybe a taxi would pass by and pick me up, but there were no cars other than one truck - I tried to wave it down, but he waved me off and kept driving. Hitchhiking is probably illegal, but it was worth a shot.
I came across an open gate with a sign advertising snacks. The dogs started barking and came to greet me and a man came out, dancing barefoot across the grass to greet me. I could tell he’d been into the vino. I asked if it was possible to get a taxi and he said yes. He waved me to the house, helped me take off my backpack and commented about how heavy it was. He turned a bucket upside down and put a cushion on it so I could have a seat. That felt quite nice. There was a second young man there, I’m guessing his son (I never asked). He offered me some fried bread and it was sooooo good. It was fresh and hot and had just the right amount of salt. It was so delicious. He already had a platter of them and was making more, but I’m not sure why he’d be making them so late. I think they’re best fresh.
The older man asked if I wanted something to drink. They had nothing cold, only wine, coffee and tea. I asked for some coffee without sugar, and he went on and on about how strange it was to drink coffee without sugar. He also brought a huge tub of dulce de leche (caramelized milk) for the bread, but I’m just not that into the sweets. He made me coffee and he entertained me with stories about the simple life, most of which I didn’t understand. The wine probably wasn’t helping. He sang some ballads and danced an Argentine tango in his bare feet, I recognized the stomping.
He wanted me to embrace the good life and said I should spend the night in his home. That would have been interesting, for sure, but I declined the offer. I also noticed that there were mattresses with sheets on them leaning up against the wall, so I think the dining room doubled as a bedroom. I really would have liked to take a photo or two, but wanted to respect their privacy, especially since I’m sharing the story.
I told him I needed to get back to El Bolson. And I told him I wanted a taxi. He then told me he couldn’t get me a taxi. Of course not! Because nothing about my day had gone right. What was I thinking?
I asked how much farther to Wharton, and he said 20 minutes. I said I needed to go and asked what I owed for the bread and coffee. He looked immediately offended that I should think I needed to pay. He said I was welcome as a guest, and I think he said he enjoyed my company, or something to that effect. I thanked them very much and got up to leave. With my back turned he said “dos cien”, which means 200 (not much more than a dollar CAD). I turned back and was going to give him cash, but he broke out laughing and pointed at me, obviously joking. It was pretty funny.
He helped me put my backpack on and sang another ballad while waving at me as I walked away.
The coffee and bread helped a lot. The last 20 minutes went by quickly. It was dark by the time I got to Wharton, but there was still a bit of light on the horizon. I think it was a quarter after 9 and I’d walked 25 km in just under 12 hours.
I recognized the campground where I’d left my other luggage. The lights were out, the door was locked. But through a window, I saw someone moving in a back room. I knocked. I knocked again, a little louder. They ignored me. I went around the back of the building and saw it was the woman I’d left my luggage with a couple of days before. And I knocked again. She kind of scowled, but relented and opened the door. The conversation was difficult, but I finally managed to explain I wanted to collect my luggage. She retrieved it from another room and asked if I wanted a taxi. I almost hugged her. “Si, yes, por favor!” I replied. She asked if I wanted it “here and now” and again, I said, yes please.
She used a radio to call for a taxi. She said it would be 50 minutes. A bit disappointing, but she sold me cola and beer and kept me company on the porch while I waited. We talked a bit, but she was very hard to understand, and I was so exhausted. She wanted to know where I was from, how old I was, where I’d been hiking. She wanted to see pictures from my hike too, so I showed her photos on my phone. I told her I would be in pain the next morning and she replied “all the day” – but she was gazing at the sky and I’m not sure if she was referring to me or her or life in general.
I told the taxi driver I wanted a good but not expensive hotel and she brought me to a decent hostel. I was very happy to have a hot shower and comfortable bed. And internet access. And power.
The next day:
I've scoured the internet looking for information about what went wrong. I've looked for better maps. I haven't figured it out.
But I am still worried about that lonely cat. It looked healthy. I hope it hasn't been abandoned.
But I am still worried about that lonely cat. It looked healthy. I hope it hasn't been abandoned.