The Sands of Time...

...or something like that. Maybe the lame sand metaphor was inspired by the crunchy bits atop half a pan of hot peach crisp that Natalie and I just consumed. However, these particular sands of which I speak seem to have gone quite quickly the past couple weeks (hence the lack of recent postings or photos). Since the last installment we headed further south into Fiordlands National Park for four highly anticipated days on the Kepler Track. However, due to unusually cold temperatures (near freezing at night and snow down to 1000ft), we decided to bang it out in three days instead, using the extra time to head out to the coast and explore Milford Sound. While the Kepler was a little colder than would have been ideal, and almost in a complete whiteout for the entire day in the alpine, it was still a gorgeous walk. Inspired by an American born Aussie hitchhiker who was working in the area, we drove out to Milford Sound to see what all the fuss is about. The weather cooperated just long enough for us to have a fantastic evening on the beach, surrounded by dramatic peaks plunging into the ocean, accented by waterfalls pouring from their heights. Oh yeah, another highlight was the delicious (and free) pizza that our friend the hitchhiker served up at the only cafe at the end of the road. The next day, after being kept up half the night by screeching Kea´s (the worlds only alpine parrot), we took another of the pizza maestro´s advice and day hiked up Gertrude Saddle. While it was too cloudy to see all the way back into the sound, we still got spectacular view of the glacial carved Gertrude Valley and the snowy, glaciated peaks towering over it.

The next highlight of the trip was a stay at a hostel in Queenstown, where we were treated to not only our first showers in almost two weeks, but a soak in a spa and getting to do LAUNDRY! That´s right folks, the first laundry stop since Puerto Natales Chile, nearly two months ago. Oh how fine clean long underwear feels! Mind you, while we (semi) frequently rinsed socks and underwear in streams and lakes, its not quite the same as good old hot water and detergent. One more driving day took us up to Christchurch, the second largest city in New Zealand, located on the semiarid east coast. There, we spent a couple of days working on selling our trusty Subaru wagon, the Silver Bullet. Unfortunately, at this time of year there are about four times as many sellers as buyers. Not good. So, after spending one night with Diego, a new friend we met in the Los Angeles airport on our flight south, we left the car in the city and headed inland for what would be a fantastic final tramp to bid farewell to the backcountry of New Zealand.

The Waimakariri-Harman Pass route took us through two alpine passes and three river valleys in Arthur´s Pass National Park in the Southern Alps. While the daily mileage was not nearly as long as many of our tramps over the past months, this particular route proved both challenging and rewarding. Much of the track follwed rocky river beds and included several steep climbs up slippery, rooty, sometimes shale covered slopes, necessitating the use of hands to haul both tramper and pack up their dripping green walls. Additionally, we spent the three nights of the tramp in huts with very good company, one transplanted Swiss man, a girl from the Czech Republic, and two young and enthusiastic Germans. The second night, after climbing Harman pass and scrambling for three hours down and over boulders in the pouring rain, Natalie and I stole out of the hut with towels, chocolate, and the remaining St. Patrick´s Day whiskey to find the hidden hotsprings next to the Taipo River. After searching for only 15 minutes, we found the steaming, sulphurous pools, nearly drowned out by the swollen river. With only a little rock and shovel work, we had one pool dug out and barricaded from the fast flowing cold water--spending the next few hours soaking while the rain fell upon us.

I could continue about what made this particular tramp so enjoyable, but the final tidbit that´s worth sharing now is that we got to use a fantastic little device called a cable car to cross the Taipo River the third day. It is basically exactly what it sounds like. A little metal box attached to a cable across the river, which when released with rider inside, zooms down to the middle, high above the water. A fellow tramper then cranks away on a pulley wheel from the bank to finish the second half of the journey back up to the station on the other side. It is possible to use it solo, but appeared to be very hard to work and according to accounts in hut log books, almost left some trampers stranded in the middle.

Returning to Christchurch on the fourth night, we met back up with Diego and his friend Amandine. Much to our relief and joy, the ball and chain that the Silver Bullet had become was taken off of our hands early the next morning. This allowed us to join the two of them on a day trip to Hanmer Springs where we took a nice walk in the coniferous forest while they mountain biked (lucky bastards). After spending a couple of hours in the mist and rain, a soak in the very commerical, but still fantastic Hanmer Hotsprings finished off a great day.

We are now spending our last few days in New Zealand in and around Christchurch, exploring the coastline, saying goodbye to our new friends, and letting the experiences of the past 4.5 months soak in. I feel as though it would be appropriate to make some closing comments for what will surely be the last entry for los dos gringos en paraiso, but I realize that none of it can be summed up. In fact, we have seen so much and experienced so many places, people, foods, customs, mountains, rivers, lakes, and every space in between that I struggle to comprehend them myself or how they will shape both of our futures. On March 24th, Natalie and I will fly back to the states, back to our families and friends we have missed so much, our beds, familiar things, and summer jobs. While this journey is nearly over, its stories, memories, and pictures will surely remain longer after the jet lag has gone.

No time for laundry

No time for showers either, but we realized last night that we have not done laundry since we got off the Torres del Paine circuit in Chile. Yikes. Since we got to the South Island, we have been on tramps with no more than a day or two of travel in between. At least we've been getting good rinse-outs in the rain, though now the car smells like wet clothes- all the time. We had a sunshiney day to dry out after the Inland Pack Track- making pancakes at the Pancake Rocks, spending a few hours on a beach, and camping next to a fantastic lake- fantastic because it was warm and crystal clear for swimming! The next day we took a long day hike to Franz Josef Glacier before continuing South to a lovely river valley, where we camped, ate curry and planned our final three treks. Our most recent trek in Mt. Aspring National Park was a three-day out-and-back with two lovely day hikes- all planned around camping (rather than staying in expensive huts) and the forecasted rain. The first day went as planned- 18 km through a mountainous river valley of golden fields, mossy forests and several swinging bridges, to a rock bivy at the head of the valley. Well, it went as planned until we saw the rock bivy. With a drip-marked ceiling no more than three feet above the rain-guttered dirt floor, and barely space for the two of us to lay down, it would be a rough sleep (or no sleep) with the sand-flies. More importantly, having learned from experience on our last trek, the forecasted rain would rise the mountain steams we had crossed on our way up, and most probably keep us in that night's shelter for at least a full day after. So, after dinner, we repacked our packs and used the last our of daylight, as well as an hour of headlamp light, to hike back though the dark forest to Pearl Flats, where we set up camp. As rain begin to spatter the tent late that night, we praised ourselves for making such a great decision to night-hike back down. Because we were not in a legal campsite, we ventured out into the downpour that morning to make camp outside one of the huts, which was actually the day's plan. After making lunch and tea under the cooking shelter, a fellow hiker ushered us into the hut to warm up. That night and well into the next day, as silver sheets of rain continued to blow down the valley, we chatted and played cards in the hut with a Kiwi man and a Dutch couple, all also camping to avoid hut fees, but enjoying the warmth of the hut's woodstove in the meantime. The hut warden was very kind to allow this, and even more so to encourage it, as she and her partner joined our games and even brought us fresh-made scones. Both of the day-hikes were aborted, but as we hiked out in a light drizzle the third day, observing how the valley walls were now striped with ribbons of waterfalls that had not been there before, Sam and I agreed that it was a lovely three-day tramp, even if we weren't tramping for most of it. Anyways, it was a lovely way to spend a couple of rainy days. (Especially not being stranded in a tiny rock bivy!) From there, we headed to Queenstown, where we found a secluded little lake very close to town to camp for free. Today we climbed the local peak, 5,100 feet, with a glorious 360 veiw over mountains and lakes. Tonight we will probably return to our lake, and tomorrow we head south to Fiordlands to hike our first New Zealand Great Walk (meaning popular and expensive). It will certainly be beautiful, with an entire day of Alpine, and the weather forecast is even looking alright! `

The long wait

I'm watching Natalie washing boots and gaitors in a flowing stream. I've seen this before, the only odd thing is that its dark--and 4:45AM. Yet, because of the past 3.5 days, I've never been more relieved. I'm relieved because two hours ago, triggered by the sound of raindrops on the the tent, I jumped out of my sleeping bag, pulled on raingear and ran down to the Fox River to try and cross it by headlamp. Being successful and feeling hopeful, if not a bit frantic, I race back to the tent where Natalie and I furiously pull it down and pack our packs. By 3:30AM we're arm in arm, headlamps pointed down into the rushing water. Thirty minutes later we have to ford the same river again, this time much easier, but have to search for the trail on the opposite bank by headlamp in the thick bush--wading downstream 100 meters before finding it. Once found, it was a relatively easy, if not slippery, 45 minutes to the Fox River bridge, where we planned on being Sunday afternoon after a short two day trek--its now Tuesday morning. The middle of the the night rush was set in motion by the possibility that it was our only chance to get out while the river was low enough, and before more rain came. Knowing that this track was prone to flooding rivers, we packed an extra night and day's food (sort of) and the tent, even though the only planned night would be in the shelter of a cave. The first night, sheltered inside the Ballroom, a 75 x 50 meter rock overhang, it began to pour. Being prepared for this, we spent most of the next day waiting for the swollen river to subside. By 2PM, it was barely crossable, so we broke camp and headed downstream. However, 25 minutes later, where the Fox and Dilemma Rivers met, we had another ford. And this one was completely unpassable. We set up the tent amongst the ferns high on the river bank to wait for the next day. To our utter dismay, it rained again at night, swelling the torrent higher than the day before. Not knowing how many days we would have to wait, we began to ration food, eating only 1/2 cup of trail mix each for the entire day. I had never felt so trapped, so anxious (or so hungry). We tried many routes, but the limestone cliffs were too high and the river too strong. That is why at 2:45 this morning, we took advantage of the low river, rather than wait and be trapped another day--or more.

While it was indeed a scary situation, not knowing when we'd be able to get the final couple of hours out of the bush, we were always warm, safe, and with our two heads firmly on our shoulders.

Many lessons well learned,
Sam

South Island Adventures

After a much needed (well, maybe just for me) rest day in Picton on the South Island, we headed just south into the Mt. Richmond Range for a four day wilderness trip that took us over countless (only because we weren't counting) peaks and connecting ridges. We didn't really have much information on the route, because our original plan was foiled due to "impassable" trails. However, good map in hand, we set out hoping to do the route in 3-4 days, with enough food for 5 or 6. After the first day, we realized that "tramping route" definitely did not mean TRAIL, so we thoroughly enjoyed the solitude of not seeing another soul for 4 days. Although there wasn't always a definte trail, the route was indeed well marked and route finding was never a problem. The un-anticipated challange for us was that the going over wet, slippery, rooty, rocky, terrain with frequent down trees was a little slower than we're used to hiking. This didn't create any problems, but seriously altered our actual vs projected hiking times based on looking at the distances and elevation on the map.

The very next day after getting off the trek, we hired two single kayaks out of Marahau, on the border of Abel Tasman National Park, and headed up the coast for two days of paddling in the Tasman Sea. Before the trip began, we had a 60 minute kayaking "lesson" from Mitch, the Independent Guides owner, who wanted to make sure we were spot on before sending us off into the great wide open. While very informative and usefull, for for safety and our paddling form, it sometimes felt a bit like being barked at by a drill instructor. Natalie (Netty, as Mitch called her) seems to take the brunt of the barking. The weather held well for us, with only a little rain the first day, along with some decently sized swells. We paddled among drippingly green islands with sandsone bluffs and caves, past seal colonies, and over glowing blue jellyfish floating in emereld green water. The second day the tides were in our favor on the way back, and we were able to explore way up an estuary at high tide.

After a night camped next to gypsy wagons headed for the Marikou gypsy fair, we continued south and west to the coastal city of Westport from where we'll try to embark on another trek if the weather decides to change its mind....

Sam

So, I got a new car for my birthday- we traded our troubling old one for a newer and safer subaru station wagon- and headed to South of Aukland to Waitomo caves. Opting only for free and independent experiences, Sam and I had a long, relaxed dinner well paired with New Zealand wines, as we waited for night to fall so the area's famous glow worms could illuminate our trail. That short night hike alone was incredible- a maze of a trail, along a serpantine creek, through forest and rock tunnels that sparkled with the tiny lights of glow worms, living among the rock walls. Prior to the hike, we got directions from some other travelers to find some uncommercialized caves right off of the same trail. The following morning was spent in these underground caverns, usually wading knee-deep in water, and scrambing over, under and through unique rock formations, which sparkled with glow worms, water droplets, or minerals. That everning we headed to Turangi, gave ourselves a day of relaxation, day hiking, pizza making, and our first night back in the tent since Chile. After sleeping in the back of a station wagon every night, we were like little kids on Christmas about getting to sleep in the tent again- and slept better than either of us had since Chile. Yesterday, we made the famous Tongaririo Crossing (Mordor), over twenty-five km, if you include the 2200m volcano (Mt. Doom from Lord of the Rings) and the 1900m mountain we climbed as side trips. The trail itself traveles through very interesting volcanic scenery, including lava fields, colored craters and thermal pools, which is why it is said it be New Zealand's most popular trail, which is also why, on a regualar Wednesday when school is in session here, we hiked it with about five hundred other people. Seriously. Without any real plans following the trek and with an renewed eagerness to escape the masses, we changed our ferry ticket to last night, and crossed over to the South Island early this morning. We are very excited for increasinly impressive scenery and already hard at work trying to figure out how to cram it all in to the month we have left. Cheers!

...still in Auckland?

We haven't posted in the last week or so because, well, not much has happened. At least not much compared to our constantly changing adventures in South America. Its not that we haven't been doing ANYTHING, but just that things are moving a bit slower. The big news is that we bought a car! A little scary for penny-few travelers, plus a large committment for only 7 weeks, but we'll hopefully get most of the money back, plus save a boatload by being able to camp every night. Or at least sleep in the back of the station wagon. And thus far we have. On Monday we drove north of Auckland and visited Sam, one of Joel's buddies from Tahoe. It was a great re-start to our NZ adventure, staying up talking about past and future adventures and getting a welcoming home to spend the night! Sam gave us some fantastic recommendations for places to go, which we used to explore further north, visiting a giant Kauri forest and Bay of Islands. We'll probably be around Auckland for another few days before quickly making our way south towards the south island. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NATALIE TOMORROW!

Sam

Back in the land of soap, toilet paper, and drinkable water!

Just arrived in NZ early this morning and are quite frazzled still from a long travel bit. Its amazing how much I appreciate simple things like being able to wash my hands after using a public restroom, not having to pay for it in the first place, and being able to drink the tap water!

Not much for now, we're going to relax in Auckland for a few days before meeting up with a friend who lives north of town for maybe a few days before moving on. Our traveling went well, although was almost problematic when our flight from Miami to LA was cancelled. Luckily, we were able to get the last two seats on a sooner flight, which was also overbooked and running late, so were able to make our connection in LA.

Dazed and jet lagged,
Sam

Adios Sud America

This is the last blog to be posted from my new favorite continent. Yesterday, we completed the ultimate bussing marathon- fifty hours! We both still have very chubby ankles from that one. That bussing marathon followed our visit to Viña del Mar, a popular beach city in Chile, which was a bit overcrowded for our tastes, but had two unique highlights: a nude beach and the Super Completo, a customary Chilean treat that Sam had looked forward to, which is a hot dog with mayo, tomatoes, and guacamole. Our real grande finale place in Chile was Ancud, a small town at the edge of the large island of Chiloe. Ancud is a colorful, quaint, fishing town, where we had a beautiful camp site on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and made clams in wine sauce for lunch and dinner because it was so affordable and delicious. We spent a day going to visit a penguin colony, where we shared mate on the beach with a nice Argentinian traveler. Friendly people, beautiful scenery and sunshine! We are currently about to leave Nazca, Peru, which feels surprizingly comfortable after having been here three months ago. Funny to think back to how busy, confusing, foreign and desertous it seemed then, and now we see it as a lovely, fashionable little town perfect for travelers´ rest. I took a small plane tour to see the famous Nazca Lines, which was extremely interesting. There are a dozen or so figures that are very prominent (and enormous), including a monkey and hummingbird, which are not found near this area, but also numerable figures that are difficult to make out, and straight lines criss crossing and stretching out for miles. It is unknown why or how exactly these line came to be, and that mystery certainly adds to their astonishing appeal. Oh, dear! Time to get on the final South American bus. I don´t doubt that we will both return to this amazing place. That is all I can say to not get sentimental about closing this chapter of the adventure. On to New Zealand!

Life in a Big Rig

Natalie and I are back in the Lakes District of Patagonia, after making our way back north via semi-truck and bus. After leaving Puerto Natales and receiving what turned out to be terrible advice, we spent the better part of a day, semi-stranded and hiking down a dusty, windy, gravel road, 21k from the nearest town in either direction, just outside the Argentinian border. Finally, a vehicle passed, taking us the final few kilometers to a small town. There, our fortunes turned (as they always seem to), and we were picked up by a long-haul trucker headed north. After about an hour with Carlos el Camionero (trucker), we decided to deviate from our original intended course and continue with him for 1.5 days. It turned out to be a fantastic descison, riding in style in his big rig, drinking maté by day and wine by night, accompanying a simple, shared dinner in the back of the empty semi-trailer, which would also become our home for the night. It was hard at first, but my comprehension of Castillano (Argentinian Spanish) improved immensely during the 21 hours of driving that lay ahead. He loved telling jokes (many at Natalie´s expense), but understanding Castillano, let alone GETTING a joke was very difficult. After much time with the dictionary, I even tried breaking out a few of mine, but telling a joke in another language turned out to be quite a challange--although Carlos was entertained none the less at my attempts.

Upon arriving at the city where we would stay and Carlos would continue north, back to his family, he insisted on driving us directly to the bus terminal. While this has been generally the standard here, as people are absolutely, astounding accomodating, driving his semi-trailer INTO the downtown of a big city and parallel parking it was way above and beyond. Carlos, we´ll try to remember and send you a jar of Mantequilla de Maní Americana (American peanut butter)!

We spent the last two days in El Bolsón, the Hippie mecca of Patagonia. They had an extremely unique and interesting crafts fair yesterday, which we spent the day purusing while resting--finally! Today, as I said, back in Bariloche, spending waaaaaaay too much time on the computer, applying for "real world" jobs upon our return. Tomorrow, we leave Argentina for the last time to explore the temperate rainforested island of Chiloé in Chile, beginning the last leg of the 10 or so days left in this wonderful continent of South America.

Adios,
Sam

PS. Natalie and posted and labeled the iceberg picture.

Blown, Wet and Happy

Back in Puerto Natales, Chile after a week of hard core trekking in Torres del Paine. Seriously, other trekkers were impressed- we averaged fifteen miles per day through the overall nastiest weather we´ve faced in South America. As the first day turned from cool and cloudy to pouring rain with a strong head wind ripping across the ten miles of grassy pampa, Sam and I both appreciated our Southeast Alaska conditioning. The next day, we took a local´s recommendation for a rest-day to hike up Valle Francais, and though we didn´t get the token valley vista due to cloud coverage, we did get to hear and see a chunk of glacier break and crash down a mountain, leaving a snowy cascade. Our origional plan was to take nine days for the trek, but after two cold days of solid rain, we decided we´d be happier eating more and sitting around camp less, so we replanned for longer, but fewer days. Of course, it was also that very night that the onset of the evil came, first to my body, a day later to Sam´s (possibly giardia?), so neither of us wanted to eat much for a couple days (very alarming behavior for the two of us!), and weren´t quite our usual, energetic selves, but we kept a quick pace through lenga (southern beech) forests and daisy fields, past turquois lakes and numerable glaciers, over rocky hills and the famous John Garner Pass. After the pass, we spent the day hiking alongside Glacier Grey, a shockingly massive electric blue plain, zebra-striped with crevasses, which is part of the third largest ice field in the world. That same day, I took a scary dip in a raging, swolen river, and Sam was almost blown off the side of a mountain, and instead into some prickly bushes, which came close to taking out his eye. Still, we laugh in the face of danger (and are very thankful for our well-being). The sun shone bright as we finished The Circuit last night, and all of this morning as we hiked out of the park, we had the clearest veiws of the magestic, jagged peaks and towers for which the park is named. Rain, a touch of snow, and southern Patagonia´s signature gale-force winds discouraged many of our photographic opertunities, and now Purto Natale´s computers, in general (we´ve tried several), are discouraging our photographic postings. Nothing, however, could discourage us from enjoying this amazingly unique, rugged, beautiful land! Now that I´ve exhausted most of my landscape adjectives, I leave you to help Sam with a post-trip barbeque. Tomorrow we´ll try to get a ride northward, headed now for weather that feels more like the summertime that they say it is down here. Being constantly surrounded by natural beauty on all these treks is getting overwhelming... We might need to consider taking a vacation....

They didn´t see us coming

And I didn´t see them either...at first. Five full plates of Asada (slow roasted beef), veggies, potatos, and salad, six dishes of dessert (had to try them all), three bowls of ice cream, and a bottle of wine. That is approximately what two skinny gringos can eat at a buffet after five days on trail food (and not quite enough at that)! Upon arriving in El Calafate, we´d been on three consecutive treks, with only buses or hitchhiking in between.

Our last trek was four days in Parque National de los Glaciars, outside El Chalten, which is the entry town for Mt. Fitz Roy and its surrounding astounding peaks. After this trek, we continued our lives as Mochileros (hitchhikers) to continue on to Calafate for the night, then continued on to Puerto Natales in Chile. So far, hitchhiking has been very good to us. While we often spend a couple of hours tyring to catch a ride, it has been the best way to meet Argentinians. When hitching out of Calafate, we were picked up with an Argentinian dancer from Buenos Aires by a trucker. Because there was a police checkpoint just out of town, we had to lie down in the trailer until passed. Once safely on our way, Natalie and I got to ride up front, sharing Maté prepared over a propane burner balanced delicately next to the gear shift. We rode with Jorgé for about two and a half hours, talking about anything besides politics (this rule was layed out at the beginning). He dropped us at nothing more than a truckstop in the middle of nowhere (well, southern patagonia actually), where we thought another ride that day was hopeless and had already scouted a gravel pit in which to pitch our tent where we weren´t likely to be bothered. Fortunately for us, the third car to pass in 2 hours was a man working in the Argentinian border town in which we needed to cross into Chile. As usual, he insisted on driving us to our exact destination. After easily crossing into Chile, we were picked up by a Chilean family returning from holiday. Crammed in the back seat of a truck with the grandfather, they drove us the final 25 km to Puerto Natales, where we have spent the last two nights, preparing for a 9 day trek in Torres del Paine National Park. I couldn´t understand a damn word the old man said, but he seemed to be entertained by every thought, none of which seemed to be questions, so it was safe to laugh along with him at every outburst--possibly at our expense :).

Now full of steak, mashed potatoes, grilled squash, red wine, and a bombero (chocolate ball with the consistency of a huge meatball), all prepared (except the bombero) loving in the rain by yours truly, we lay down for a southern hemisphere´s night sleep before again trusting our luck to the road and trail for our next leg of the journey...until next time...

Sam and Natalie (Viajeros sin dinero)

Patagonia!

I am extrememly happy to report that our lack of recent entries is due to the fact that the majority of our time in Argentina has so far been spent in the backcountry, and second on a bus (forty-two hours of straight bussing from La Quica (Argentia border) to Junin (central Agentina, known as the Lakes District), but the busses are much larger and more comfortable than those in Bolivia, and they serve wine with dinner, and "wiqui" afterwards, which Sam and I were delighted find out when served was whiskey. A much better blind order than the nipples in Peru. So the pictures that Sam is currently uploading were from Tupiza, our last stop in Bolivia, where we spent Chirstmas. We last left the blog just after crossing the border to Argentina, when we got on the never-ending busride, which ended in the delightful little town of Junin, which is very reminiscent of Driggs, Idaho, or some other tiny tourist town in the western U.S. Junin gave us a cozy, free spot to camp along a river, while we prepared for a trek in nearby Parque Nacional Lanin. From the park entrance to our trailhead was over 18 miles, but we were fortunate to walk only a third of that scenic, but dusty road before getting picked up by the two most fabulous Argentinians ever, Charly and Ale. After rearranging their road trip-packed car to make room for us, Charly passed us mate´ to share, and he and Ale engaged us in (mostly) Spanish conversation, which is different and a bit trickier in Argentina than Peru or Bolivia. They insisted on driving us all the way to our trailhead, which was past their campsite, but they wanted to check in and have lunch first. So we spent a lovely afternoon under a monkey-puzzle tree, beside a lake, eating trout and cherries among other delicious things that our new friends shared with us. (We had only cheese to share, but at least it was good cheese.) When they dropped us off at our trailhead, Ale and Charly offered us a ride back to San Martin after our trek, which we intended to take them up on after we hiked back from the hot springs in three days. However.... After a long trek through overgrown forests, which combined a two day trek into one, we got to the hot springs only to learn that they were now an expensive day spa. And there was no camping, as the Park Office had told us. So we hitched a ride to the nearest (7 miles) campground from an Adventure Race doctor, who told us about a two day trek through some amazing valleys, which started at the lake where we were camping and ended at the road to San Martin. Flying by the seat of our pants as usual, we took his directions (by memory) and followed the trail through a number of various environments, including lush forests of southern beech, bamboo, and monkey puzzle trees, dry savannahs, and expansive volcanic landscapes. When we got to San Martin that evening to find that free camping was impossible, we were forced to face the reality of returning to first-world living during the tourist season: it´s expensive! San Martin is a first class tourist town with fancy sidewalks and lots of shopping. Our hostel was the cheapest we could find, and still probably the nicest we´ve stayed in- at least you get what you pay for. The following night in Bariloche, a larger town that feels much more down to earth, we took our second hostel stay in Argentina in a tenth-story penthouse hostel, with a huge kitchen, a free food shelf that gave us two liters of beer, clean and quiet dorms, and a porch looking down on the lake and out to the mountains. Bariloche gets the prize for best city of the trip! Real supermarkets supplied us with meat, cheese, good bread, discounted navidad snacks and other trekking food we´d missed for the past two months. Well-stocked for four days in Parque Nacional Huapì, we hiked up and over rocky ridgelines, down talus slopes, through lush river valleys, and bathed every night in beautiful, serene streams and lakes. Exiting the backcountry this morning, with tickets for a thirty-six hour bus leaving tonight, we are loving Patagonia, and so excited to be seeing so much of it! We weren´t sure if it would be time- or economically feasible to visit Torres del Paine or Fitz Roy in Southern Patagonia, but we are making it happen! Blog posts may become increasingly less frequent, but that means mas tiempo en paraiso para los dos gringos!