Chile: San Pedro de Atacama - Paso Sico
Totally exhausted of Southern Lipez I passed the border from Bolivia to Chile in an altitude of about 4600m above sea level that leads into Paso de Jama. All I wanted was to let it run down to San Pedro de Atacama, an Oasis village about 2500m a.s.l. with a pleasant climate. Soon the view opened and the amazing coulisse of a row of some dozen of volcanoes appeared under a clear blue sky. What a beauty!
As much as I loved Chile allow me a comment concerning their road construction: If possible they would build their roads even overhanging.
Running towards San Pedro suddenly in the wide desert gravel fields a fence appeared. At first I did not understand why there was a fence. Then a panel showed up saying: “Peligro Campo de Minas,” Mine field. Later I was informed about the origin and purpose, (Pinochet, the ex dictator is greeting) it served to keep back dissidents from fleeing to Bolivia after 1973.
San Pedro de Atacama offered me the necessary break I was longing for. Beside its great climate it’s got a special character. Let’s say it’s a big party village where you have to choose wisely where you will participate. For me it served for more than a break: it was the perfect place for a complete physical recuperation. I was hanging out with many backpackers and enjoyed the international company while I was working for my website.
In order to buy bike parts and to replace the camera that had fallen into a Bolivia thermal bath I went to the nearby town Calama, the city of the huge copper mines. Entering the luxury shopping malls after having spent months in third world country conditions a little culture shock hit me. I was back in the consuming world and it caused some trouble to cope with the sudden change. I felt not well and kind of stress arose.
After an extended break of 13 days, my goodness, I restarted to climb over to Argentina and chose the desolated pass road Paso Sico: With the necessary respect I left the civilisation behind and found myself soon alone in the spectacular desert. It was the last breakup into Atacama desert. I loved it: Riding between volcanoes, through gravel fields of many different colours, along plenty of little salt flats with the clear lagoons in between the short yellow grass brush under a blue huge sky and furthermore inhaling the ambiance of being alone out there in, conquering immense distances out in the nowhere. Often there seemed to be no end, estimating the distances as far as the eye could see and even when reaching the horizon another endless area was showing up. Emotions pure rose there and are rising again while writing about it. Truly I can say I had very few moments all over the tour when I came to my limits, but here it great mental power was needed not to loose heart. I was well aware that it could have become very ugly out there to be running out of water. There were very few cars coming along and a number of them, really nice guys, asked me if I needed supplies and in a iron mine they even gave me food. Within three days I reached the border with great joy.
Argentina: Paso Sico – San Antonio de los Cobres – Cafayate – Chilecito – Paso Agua Negra
Overwhelmed with joy to have arrived in the 16th country since Alaska I just had enough time to get to the migration before sunset.
The guys asked me about the car as they could hardly believe that another of the few cyclists was passing this isolated road. Mocking me a bit at first they couldn’t hide their admiration and showed me great hospitality.
The next day I stepped out to the lonely road again. A plain as large that I almost could not see to the horizon opened, my first meters in Provincia de Salta. On wash board conditions I had to conquer gravel fields in an extra dry surrounding along a salt flat beside. Unfortunately, I carried only about 7 liters of water and ran indeed out of it towards the end of the day. Finally close to the border to Jujuy I found an indigenous community which looked more like a ghost town. A family filled my bottles and I gave them a tip. It was a strange ambiance in the village; I didn’t know if I was welcome or not. That’s why I continued riding another some 15km further and camped beside the road next to a creek which to my surprise had suddenly showed up.
After another cold night I was dragging on towards Alto Chorillo when I suddenly smelt sulphur. Putting my hand into the small creek I was surprised. It had got a temperature of some 30°. I did not have the time to rest again as my friend Tomas, with whom I had been travelling four years ago, was expecting me in Cafayate. Further the days in a row through the desert are consumptive, mentally and physically: by day pushing and by night trying to sleep in the cold tent with little oxigen.
When I finally reached the last peak of the extended Paso Sico, Alto Chorillo, I got an immense view to the eastern slopes of the Argentine Andes. My emotions jumped once again with joy and I was longing to reach Argentine Summer after all the cold times through the Andes up North. It was at hand.
On a Sunday I arrived in San Antonio de los Cobres. The village appeared more animated than I had expected up there in 3700m. Quickly I filled my belly in a restaurant and pushed on focusing my mind on Argentina’s road top, Abra el Acay that should lead me directly to Cafayate in the end. I noticed often that by focusing the next goal mentally I could hold my physical strength high over a period of rough days.
I dragged the heavy bike towards the pass. Lamas came close and observed me curiously. Their trust touched me. Ahead of the pass a car stopped, a few tourists from Buenos Aires asked me about my tour. I saw they were so thrilled that they absolutely wanted to give me something. So they finally gave me ice to cool my water. At that moment I asked myself what I should do with it, wasn’t it already cold enough up there?
Close by I stopped, I found a nice little grass spot to put up my tent. Again as always, silence covered the wide wilderness. I loved it.
As every day in this cold area I let the sun wake me up by warming my tent in the morning. Then to get fully awake - still in my sleeping bag – I drank a very strong coffee which has become a habit of mine. Later followed the routine work of packing the luggage and then breaking up again.
With nice weather I was climbing slowly the meandering way closer and closer to the clouds. Not even lacking too much oxygen I reached the top and I absorbed another awesome view. At the very North I could even make out Salinas Grandes where Paso Jama is located. I felt very satisfied just climbing the road top of Argentina with its 4969m and knowing that only a long down hill was ahead of me.
Abra el Acay and the road down to Valle Calchaqui was built in the late 50ths. The gravel road immediately fell hundreds of meters before it led along a river where life starts again. I observed the first small green parrots.
The further you come the more the valley opens, the first trees show up and soon there are huts of indigenous people. Its real character appeared: Red rocks often with gulches to ride through, formed by erosion, seamed the deep green vegetation along the river under a blue sky. Riding here for me were some of the nicest days since the beginning. After months of nervous tension due to very inconvenient situations since we left the United States I arrived (beside Chile) in a secure country again.
At Rodeo I had finally enough and saw a school where the teacher and boss allowed me to rest a night. He even offered me bread and tea. What a lovely encounter.
Very early the other day I had to leave the school as the lessons were about to begin.
On a hot day I visited first the village Cachi, a pearl!, and fought on the sandy gravel road until Angastaco ahead of Quebrada de las Fechas, gulch of arrows. There I camped finally for a little more than a dollar on the municipal campground. For me it was another dream day. The road connects in the dry but nice valley oasis villages shaped with poplar trees and vine, just picturesque.
The day after I recognized from far a storm right in the direction of the route: Soon a tough wind caught me. Sand like abrasive paper ripped almost my skin off. I hid behind a small hill. After it got quiet again I continued but the further I came the more destroyed the road was. Stones had fallen by erosion from the side slopes and whole areas were flooded. Only by pushing and dragging for hours I overcame the unlucky passage through the mud. In its end I reached with joy and satisfaction the pavement. With best weather it was indeed the silence after the storm although an emergency bike wash was absolutely necessary.
Almost flying for excitement towards San Carlos and Cafayate I enjoyed at least the last hour of the 8th day in a row and was finally riding through what I have been longing for since months. The road takes its way through vineyards, lovely old villages and groves of poplars.
In Cafayate a local cyclist called me and I spent a time of rest for a small amount in his home. The days after my friend Tomas from Ecuador visited me which extended the break for some days.
When I finally broke up I felt lazy as to my shame I had nourished myself almost only from coffee and ice cream in Cafayate.
The further South I came the dryer the desert became, nevertheless I liked the area. The distances between the villages increased which required again carrying more water and more mental force. It was a ride often for hours straight through steppe. Especially in Catamarca and La Rioja I had to fight against the boring road. Sometimes there is not even one small curve in distances of 30km. The horizon is the goal and the day one long mental fight. All the lovelier appeared the small villages as e.g. San Blas and Pituil. Normally I carried up to some 8liters of water and coke to push my body. In the evening of day number four in a row I reached Chilecito where I was welcomed warmly at the fire fighters station to stay with them. As I was so happy to have overcome the boring distances I celebrated it with pizza, salad, beer and icecream. I liked the ambience in the town and decided to stay an extra day.
Going on I noticed the desertlike nature became even more dominant towards to the province San Juan. In San José de Jachal I met by coincidence Nadine and Gaets, a Swiss couple, who had first ridden the Silk Road. We camped on a local campground and told each other half a day long all kinds of experiences and stories before I finally broke up to conquer the mountain range to Chile again. The strong thermal air provided for a fair tailwind. It was already evening when I reached the Argentine migration. The police sent me back down to camp in Flores as they did not want to give me the stamp still that day neither permitted me to camp up there. Annoyed I followed the instructions and was finally allowed to set my tent behind a gas station.
The next morning I got up very excited and a bit nervous too as I was about to climb the huge mountain range over 4700m the last time. Paso Agua Negra was ahead of me. When I started I recognized that it had been snowing the day before which increased my respect for the pass.
Before the migration police let me go they asked me how many days I was planning for crossing. I estimated three days and received the information that they would report it to the Chilean co-workers in case I should get stuck for any reason someone would come to look for me. Nice!
Agua Negra was a desolated pass road to cross the mountain rage to Chile. It is open only some months a year during summer and there is hardly any traffic.
At midday I was stopped by a group of Argentine Mountaineers from the province capital who showed me indigenous stone painting just beside the road. A lovely encounter led to a small chat and after some km of riding I visited them for a break in their refuge to have further conversation.
After camping at about 4000m altitude I advanced slowly towards the top. I felt very weak due to a heavy lack of oxygen. Moving was very hard. At mid afternoon I reached the top just when the weather was about to change. I took some photos, clothed myself warmly and rushed forward to flee from the snow. A huge downhill to La Serena at the Pacific Ocean was about to start.
Chile: Agua Negra - La Serena - Val Paraiso – Santiago - Pucon
Driven by the change of weather and expecting snowfall I started to rush down the Chilean side of Agua Negra towards the famous Valle Elqui.
Indeed already at 4 p.m. a thunderstorm arose and about 4400m a.s.l. I had to put up my tent to save me from the freezing conditions. Already before sunset the snow storm was over and a silence covered the valley. In the cold air I enjoyed the sunset hearing even my own breath. Such moments I will never forget: The hours alone far out in the nowhere where there is no noise and distraction at all.
In the early morning with some ice on the tent I made my bike ready. The downhill could continue. It was the most beautiful part of the pass. The scenery showed up in all kinds of colours, reddish and yellowish volcano slopes seamed the gravel road and the route led through wide stone fields to an artificial lake. Further down I reached the Chilean migration where they took my wooden kickstand and beater stick for dogs as it was not allowed to enter fruit or vegetable to Chile. Wood seems to fall into the same categories.
A hard and warm headwind coming up the valley forced me to pedal even in the paved downhill. Well, I didn’t mind as the Valle Elqui was that beautiful with all its vineyards, wherever possible clothing the rocky desert valley in a green garden. Late, just before sunset I reached Vicuña, the agricultures home. It was a lovely town with typical Chilean wooden houses. In a hotel backyard I was allowed to camp and with satisfaction I enjoyed the successful day. The day after I got to la Serena where the atmosphere changed completely. The historic centre was beautiful. So was the coast street although it resembled more a Californian beach.
As I wanted to be in Valparaiso for Christmas I decided to push on the main road number 5, the official Panamerican Highway. The days were often very boring and the camps beside the road another kind of adventure, once I even slept beside a toll station. Only the last day, off the highway along the coast, reminded me even of the scenery of Oregon. I enjoyed it.
December 25 I entered the huge bay of Valparaiso with all its coloured houses of many epochs. In its history the harbour was the source of income. Since the Panama channel is open money has been lacking anywhere to make renovation on the historic houses and famous elevators, the funiculars as they call them.
In the city I was hosted by Francisco, a couch surfing member, who showed me well around in the historical city. Afterwards I continued towards Santiago to spend there New Year’s Eve. To avoid the traffic I didn’t chose the direct road. The interior of the country I liked much more than the busy and modern coast line around Viña del Mar. The coast country’s treasures are hidden and conserved in these old villages: There are huge trees that cover the streets with old elegant houses and residences along them and local farmers who sell their vegetable and fruit on many stands in the villages.
Climbing a little pass the day after, I caught sight again of the Andes. Crossing an immense plain I entered Santiago on a freeway where to my surprise the police even advised me to ride there although it was prohibited. In the centre I pushed the bike around not really knowing where to go when a local, Pato, saw me on the central place and invited me to his home. I got to know his wife and could stay with them that night. The day after I made out the home where all the other cyclists got together and rested there for two weeks.
Towards mid of January my old friend Matt showed up in Santiago. We had cycled from San Francisco all the way down to El Salvador a year before.
Both of us were happy to push on together as we knew and liked each other like brothers. Now when we found each other again we were much more relaxed and pleased with lower standards.
On dangerous ways we left Santiago and started a run that should take us for some 800km on the freeway. It was a typical life on the highway: We slept and ate beside the road, often behind houses or open air in forests, once in a green house or often with fire fighters.
Although freeway 5 is straight and seems to be boring we observed every day funny situations: Once just beside us we watched a pickup whose cardan shaft fell out in the midst of the highway. He rolled out while we caught sight of the astonished faces of the couple who had driven it. Matt recognized immediately: “This won’t run for any meter.”
Only a short time afterwards we heard some noise behind us. When I looked back I almost did not believe my own eyes: There was a car approaching with about 100km/h sliding its motor along the ground. I don’t know how far the driver made it.
When we finally arrived at Villarrica after an 8 day ride in a row almost straight, we were both mentally tired of the monotonous days. Although we said during the eight days how much we were looking forward to taking a bath in the lake, we never even set a foot in it. Just too lazy.
After months of riding in dry places, we were finally back to the forests and liked the green scenery very much. Going on we were not really concentrated and missed the junction we wanted to take. Suddenly we found ourselves close to a pass side volcano Lanin which led us earlier than planned to the province Neogen back to Argentina.
Argentina: San Junin de los Andes – Bariloche
Getting along very well, Matt and I loved riding together and had every evening a feast while camping and cooking.
When we had crossed over to Neugen, we were a bit surprised and disappointed as the forests stopped immediately. Only some days ago we had been glad to have entered the woods for the first time since Peru.
Soon we entered San Martin de los Andes and went along the route of seven lakes, an area resembling Swiss Engadin. Unfortunately there is a huge difference nowadays: There is ash falling from Chilean volcano Puyehuye which covers sometimes the countryside like snow. From far it looked like a cloud. Coming closer, especially around Villa la Angostura, the fun is over: The ash irritates nose, eyes and mouth. In the end of that day we were riding out into the open dry pampa with a strong wind. How happy we were when an old man offered us a huge garage for engines beside the road to sleep in its shelter. The wind whistled strongly all night long while we slept like babies in the dusty shelter.
I was looking forward to visiting Bariloche when we soon learned that it had changed into kind of a cultural island. It is almost all about money: At Llao Llao we had to catch an early morning ferry and had to sleep near the harbour. That’s why we rode out by night and asked the fire fighters who sent us to the nearby police already close to 10 p.m. by rain. Once arrived at the police station just beside the forest and with plenty of space around the house to camp we asked for camping permission. You won’t believe all the excuses we got to hear why we could not camp there nor anywhere around the lonely place. After an awkward discussion Matt could not withhold his anger and shook all of them graciously his hand thanking them for their great help. I just smiled looking at all their faces as they obviously understood very well how it was meant. Disappointed we pushed the bikes by rain out into the darkness only hundreds of meters behind the police station into the forest and stealth camped right there.
Chile: Lago Todos Santos - Puerto Montt - Carretera Austral – Villa O’Higgins
February 1 we arrived in Puerto Montt. Not only the pedalling but also some cold days with rain while crossing the Andes wore us out. The town is a typical harbour city: dirty, busy and mixed up with several cultures. Nevertheless we were pleased to rest there four days.
Finally we were about to start another great goal of the long tour: Carretera Austral, initially built by Chile’s ex dictator Augusto Pinochet.
It is a cyclist destination: There are plenty of wild forests and rivers to camp and cook, further an awesome scenery of mountains, glaciers and a couple of fjords which attract dozens of cyclists, especially Chileans.
As Matt’s girlfriend came to visit him in Buenos Aires he left his bike behind in the Casa de Ciclista in Mañihuales and hitch hiked to meet her. I stayed first with Jorge, the initiator of the Casa Ciclista, and went on alone afterwards. It was the beginning of my last stage alone to Ushuaia.
Having no schedule and hardly any noise in the pure nature, I noted that I could recover my interior tiredness to a certain degree that I had been feeling strongly since Peru.
Often I camped alone on a lake or a river, lit a fire and enjoyed cooking. I just lived in a natural rhythm in the wilderness what I often described as living like a wild animal.
In Puerto Bertrand I was invited to stay with a couple just changing their home. I liked the couple a lot and stayed in their new but still empty home for five days.
A strike by road blockades for requirements of the province Aysen against the national government brought the area in a shortage of fuel. Often I saw standing cars out in the nowhere which had run out of fuel. Rumours about no diesel for the boats on Lago O’Higgins made many cyclists nervous. Indeed the boats did not run regularly anymore so that about 17 cyclists got stuck in Villa O’Higgins. Some of them had to wait even for 13 days in a row. I just missed that boat but was lucky to get another one three days later.
Crossing Lago O’Higgins towards the border station to Argentina was a beautiful ride: The lake water was “glacier milk” and according to it the temperatures were low. While we, a group of seven cyclists, were having a nice time around the warm wood stove in the trunk, the boat was trailing in the early morning slowly over the calm lake.
After the Chilean migration I push on alone first. There is a small gap between the real roads, only a foot path allows crossing. As I was not aware of what bad conditions were waiting for me, I removed my sandals and pushed the bike through the first river bare foot. After having crossed the tough river with my bike sandals clamped on top of the luggage I haphazardly looked back and just caught sight of one of my sandals floating down the strong current. In knee-jerk reaction I put the bike on the ground and ran after it, first without any chance. I had to find a way through the forest along the river until I got back to the shore where, thank God, the shoe was hanging in a tree root. Otherwise I wouldn’t have had any chance to get my precious shoe back.
Argentina: El Chalten – El Calafate – Puerto Natales (Cl)
After I could bring my sandal back in security I crossed the border where the bad conditions only started: Pushing and dragging for some hours brought us finally to Laguna del Desierto.
Unfortunately I twisted my ankle in the safest place ever since months, in a back yard amidst El Chalten. Honestly, when I fell and then lay on the pavement with terrible pain, I thought my ankle was broken and the tour was over. Consequently there was no hiking to the Great Southern Ice Fields for me. For three days I could hardly walk then at least pedalling was possible again.
It was another significant natural change I was just about to pass, and the wide dry Southern Argentine pampa opened. The first part I rode together with Albert Sans. The strong wind blew us with more than 30km/h in average to the junction of RN 40. Two days later I arrived at El Calafate where I spent my 30th birthday. Making a calculation of the final km count I found out that I would need less than a hundred additional km to reach the 33’000km. The decision represents my character: I extended the tour by riding to glacier Perito Moreno instead of hitch hiking. It turned out to be a lovely journey: Camping in the Glacier NP was awesome as I heard the falling ice blocks crushing into the lake all night long.
Pushing out into the pampa again, I met Pedro, an Argentine from Buenos Aires, cycling La Quiaca – Ushuaia. Together we observed a condor that had just landed taking off only meters beside the road. Soon we had to separate again as I wanted to go back to Chile and Pedro, the patriot did not want to leave his country.
The gravel road took an unlucky direction. The wind came direct from the right hand side and blew me not a few times to the ground. Out there the loneliness is again comparable with the one in the Atacama desert. The will to conquer it and the focused mind came back immediately as kind of the tools to reach the horizon again and again and again until the goal was at hand. Gratefully I found in the end of that distance a “puesto fijo” a road workers deposit where I was offered a half open garage to spend the night. I liked hearing the very strong wind whistling around the building while being well protected in the shelter. Very satisfied I cooked and then settled in my sleeping bag after a hard day of fighting against the wind from which I was shielded off now.
After I had passed another condor parade the next day I left Argentina to Puerto Natales.
Chile: Puerto Natales - Punta Arenas - Tierra del Fuego - San Sebastian
Happy I made it late that day to Puerto Natales, a lovely place, just beside a fjord and surrounded by woods. What a contrast to the pampa on the other side of the hill.
Although my foot was still hurting I decided to take the chance to visit National Park Torres del Paine in a two day hike.
In a hostal I asked about the fire that had been in the park just a few months ago When they told me the details I learned, that the fine for the person causing that fire that burnt 20% of the park area was only 10’000 US$. I could not refrain from telling them that apparently their world famous park seemed to be worth no more than 50’000 US$. :-)
Leaving Puerto Natales a strong tailwind brought me fast down to Punta Arenas where for the first time I caught sight of the island Tierra del Fuego. As I didn’t like the town I slept behind the new ferry station and caught the early morning ferry.
Stepping on the island my emotions rose while thinking: “This is now Tierra del Fuego I have been pointing my eyes upon for more than 21 months since Alaska.”
After having filled up my food stack I started heading East. A rough countryside opened leading me along Bahia Inutil. It is not that useless as its name says: At the tip a colony of king penguins has settled since a year as there is enough fish in the bay’s cold water. I visited the beautiful but clumsy creatures and only because of the cold and strong wind I left finally. It was funny I was glad to observe them. I had never before seen them in nature.
The most impressive moments on Tierra del Fuego came up towards evening when the sun was shining almost horizontal over the wide flat pampa fields and the illumination became reddish. Camping in the silence and loneliness amidst the endless grassland I especially enjoyed.
Towards San Sebastian, the border village, the road crosses another mine field of Pinochet’s time. A little anxious I approached the fences to catch some photos close by. Generalizing I can say that not only there but all over Chile I often got the impression - when I talked to the older Chilean generation especially - that there is still an imprint due to Pinochet’s time. The people often appear meek and humble and talk still with kind of awe about all what is government. Nevertheless I liked the Chilean people very much. I felt always safe and was treated nicely and respectfully.
Argentina: San Sebastian – Tolhuin - Ushuaia - Buenos Aires
In the same way I already had entered Argentina at Paso Sico now again in the end I was allowed to sleep in the warm border station.
The day after, I was pushed by a strong tailwind on Ruta 3 along the Atlantic Ocean and advanced fast on the pavement. In Rio Grande I made a stop over and observed the celebrations on the occasion of the memory day for the war on Malvinas (Falkland Islands) exactly 30 years ago. Thousands of people attended it. I was a bit shocked when I talked with some young people of my age as they seriously told me that they would like to have another war.
Going on I met a local cyclist, Nestor a lawyer originally from Cordoba. We wanted to share a mate along the road at Santa Maria when it was just about to start raining. The local rangers called us into their home where we finally had our mate in a group of four. The mate custom is a central part of Southern South America’s culture: Herbs of tea are put in a cup and many times hot water is poured in and soaked out with kind of a tube instrument. I always enjoyed to participate it. Carlos and his wife finally even let me sleep in their house. I was very happy and deeply thankful for the opportunity hearing the strong wind with rain blowing all night.
The more South I came the more I recognized the late season. Towards the Southern part of the Island the pampa ended and there were woods again, in scenery autumn colours.
At Emilio’s Bakery in Tolhuin, another Casa de Ciclista, where cyclists eat and sleep for free, I rested another day. I don’t want to forget to give thanks to Emilio for the some 17 empanadas I ate and his great hospitality!
The remaining distance I wanted to knock out within a day but the first snow fall this year forced me to stop in the midst of the mountain range ahead of the Beagle Chanel. In cold and wet conditions I pushed the bike off the road. It was slippery and there was no snowplow or salt distributing truck coming by to help out as I was used to from Switzerland. Just there out in the nowhere I found three log houses. In a very lovely way I was received by the locals Tiki and Andres in their warm wooden house. Once more I laid my head in the pillow, thankful and happy for the kindness I got.
The very last day with sunshine and snow covered mountain peaks over coloured forests I passed the mountain range and caught first time sight of the Beagle channel. The moment hit me and emotions arose. Then the towers at the entrance of Ushuaia showed up and right behind the bay with the city around appeared. What a beauty! I had to stop a moment as I was overwhelmed with emotions. - Done!
And where do I go now? And what do I do now? – Honestly until I was finally able to leave the harbour city by airplane, I had somewhat of an orientation crisis. Throughout the tour in stop overs I could always escape when I felt an inner driving. Now I just had to accept the situation keeping me back as the flight only left in a couple of days.
I could finish the great time all over America in a relaxed atmosphere in Buenos Aires with family Cantini whose daughter Catalina with her friend José I had met in Mexico. We had been rescued by helicopter in Chiapas a year ago. Thank you and a big hug to you all! I enjoyed staying with you all.
During the rest I visited several friends in the province. Another special encounter was to meet Walter and Marcelo whom I had met with Reto back up in Canada July 2010.
I am very thankful to the Argentine people whose culture and generous hospitality I loved very much. It is a scenery country, especially the huge passes to Chile attract me for a future tour.