El Calafate, Argentina

Saying goodbye to Torres del Paine was bittersweet. What natural beauty we’d seen in this remote part of Chile! At least we weren’t leaving southern Patagonia yet. We were heading overland to El Calafate, Argentina, where we’d explore more of the region. 

 

There was beautiful scenery on the way to the border. In the clear light of early morning, every single tree stood out in sharp relief. I couldn’t stop staring through the windows of the bus, soaking it all in to store in my memory. We crossed over the swiftly moving Cerrano River where people enjoy fly fishing for Chinook salmon. As we drove a series of switchbacks on the park’s unpaved road, the landscape gradually changed from mostly forest to mostly dry Patagonian steppe. The towering presence of the Paine Massif loomed on the horizon. 

At Lake Toro, we stopped briefly to take some final photos of its turquoise waters. 

 

Finally, we were able to pick up the pace when we reached a paved road. A little before noon, we arrived at Cerro Castillo, the last Chilean settlement before the border with Argentina. It’s little more than a small village, with a restaurant and an enormous and well-stocked gift shop where I found penguin socks, a T-shirt, and some Chilean chocolate. 

Howling wind gusts practically blew us into the restaurant. The servers were dressed in typical Patagonian style with their boinas (the floppy berets) perched on their heads and kerchiefs tied at their necks. The places were set with chargers painted with native designs. We munched on warm tortas fritas and toasted to our time in Chile with pisco sours. The main course was cazuela, a hearty soupy stew containing chicken, potatoes, and pumpkin. It was very comforting on this chilly, summer day.

 

Chile’s border station was practically next door. When you cross the border this far south, you don’t have to go across any mountains. There was no wait and the processing took just a few minutes.

After driving a few more minutes through no man’s land, we were officially in Argentina’s Santa Cruz province. We quickly switched buses and met our new local guide, Silvia. She told us that Santa Cruz is the country’s second largest but least populated province. 

 

Soon we were traveling north on National Road 40, the road that runs north-south for 3000 miles through western Argentina. When we noticed a red roadside shrine, the bus pulled over to the side of the road so Silvia could tell us about Gauchito Gil, the hero of a local folktale. I won’t go into the story’s details but it obviously is well-known in Argentina. These shrines appear along the roadside throughout this part of Patagonia and it’s customary for travelers to stop and leave an offering, such as a can of beer.

 

While it was quite green in Torres del Paine, here at the same latitude on the Argentine side of the border, the predominant color was a dusty yellow. That’s because the wind that blows from the west across the Pacific drops its moisture as rain and then as snow on the Andes. By the time it reaches the land east of the mountains, there’s little moisture left.

 

The story of settlement in this part of Argentina is nearly identical to what took place in Chile’s southern Patagonia region. After the country became independent in 1816, the government encouraged people to settle the land here to reinforce their claim to the territory, which Chile also claimed. To attract immigrants from Europe, they advertised that they would offer them land. Immigrants from many European countries came and started sheep farms, which became profitable. In fact, during this era, sheep were considered “white gold.” But there was a huge negative impact on the indigenous population, which rapidly declined as the European population grew.

 

We were still on the bus when merienda time rolled around. Silvia explained that it’s an Argentine custom to have a late afternoon snack to keep them satisfied until their very late dinner hour. She and Javi prepared and served us a typical merienda snack called vigilante. It was a plain cookie topped with a slice of cremoso(a soft cheese) and a slice of dulce de batata (sweet potato paste). It’s a simple savory and sweet combination that you could make at home substituting Brie for the soft cheese and the more readily available membrillo (quince paste) for the sweet potato paste.

Before long, we came to El Calafate, the town that would be our base for the next couple of days. It’s located in a glacial valley on the shores of Lake Argentino, the country’s largest lake. Lake Argentino is a glacier-fed body of water that empties into the Santa Cruz River, which flows 200 miles to the Atlantic Ocean.

 

El Calafate began as a rest stop for gauchos taking sheep and wool to the closest port. The name of the town comes from a native bush that produces sweet berries resembling blueberries. Today, the town’s population is 28,000 to 30,000 and its main (actually only) industry is tourism. This is where people who want to visit Los Glaciares National Park stay. It’s filled with restaurants, small hotels, tour company offices, and shops selling hiking gear and souvenirs. Since we were here in the middle of high season (September to April), it was quite busy.  

I was glad our hotel, the Kau Yatun (Tehuelche for “house of stone”), was in a quieter location outside the center of town. The main building was formerly the sprawling ranch house of an estancia.

For dinner at the hotel, the choices were sea bass or guanaco stew. I usually like to try local specialties but I wasn’t feeling adventurous enough to try the guanaco stew. The fish was delicious, as was the deep purple calafate ice cream.

After dinner, I decided to explore the town. It was already 7:30pm but Javi assured me that it would be safe to walk around in the dark. A fifteen-minute walk brought me to the main street of the tourist area, which was bustling with activity. I strolled through an artisans’ market where I thought I might spend some of my remaining Argentine pesos. I didn’t really need cash since nearly all the stalls displayed signs saying they accepted Visa and Mastercard. However, after looking at the jewelry, knitted items, and hundreds of maté gourds for sale, I left empty-handed.

At breakfast the next morning, there were a few new items on the buffet. As I expected, there was calafatejam. There was also lomo de guanaco, slices of dried guanaco, which had a mild flavor, not at all gamey.

Right after breakfast, we drove a short distance out of town to a working estancia where we spent the major portion of the day. It seemed like such a desolate setting, a few scattered low buildings dwarfed by the immensity of the surrounding pampas. 

 

One of the first things we did when we arrived was to put on boinas and neckerchiefs, like true gauchos. I was instantly transformed into Gauchita Robin.

 

Then we gathered around the outdoor parrilla (the upright grill) where a lamb was already roasting, to meet Gerardo, the estanciero. He is the fifth generation of his family to own and operate the 30,000-acre ranch. I’d guess he was in his 50s and he lives alone on the property. While periodically stoking the fire, Gerardo talked about life on the estancia. He has a herd of 900 Coverdale sheep that he raises for meat since their wool is not as high quality as the wool of Merino sheep. Two dogs assist with caring for the herd.

Javi had previously told us dogs on these estancias are not treated as pets. They’re considered working dogs whose job is not only to herd the animals but to protect them from predators. The Great Pyrenees is the favored breed for sheep herding while border collies and the Barbucho (Patagonian sheepdog) are often used with cattle. 

 

Gerardo confirmed that pumas are definitely a problem. He tries to keep them away from the herd by using a noise machine but there have been times when he had to hunt them with a rifle. 

 

In addition to sheep, Gerardo has 70 head of cattle, both Hereford and Angus. With the help of irrigation, he is able to grow alfalfa to feed the cattle. Cattle are easier to raise, he said, because you don’t have to worry about predators.

The smoke from the fire soon got pretty thick and I was glad when Silvia and Javi led us to low building for a hands-on activity. This wasn’t the main house but a separate building set up as a kitchen. They put us to work preparing two items for our lunch: chimichurri sauce (tomato, onion, red and green pepper, oil, vinegar, and salt) and a chocolate torta, a popular Argentine dessert. 

 

I volunteered to be part of the dessert crew. We started with a base layer of chocolate wafer cookies, each one dipped in coffee to soften it. Next, we spread a thick layer of dulce de leche on top of the cookies before adding another layer of coffee-dipped cookies and more dulce de leche. The finishing touch was grated white chocolate over the entire “cake.”

We couldn’t eat the torta right away, but fortunately, it was time for a snack. (People in Argentina seem to eat a lot of snacks.) We headed into the main house and found seats in the simply furnished parlor, where we drank tea and munched on sopapillas (that irresistible fried bread). Between sips of maté, Gerardo continued telling us about his family history and life on the estancia. 

Although the name of the estancia, Bon Accord, is French for “Good Agreement,” Gerardo’s ancestry is primarily Scottish. Around 1880 William Dickie came from Scotland and first went to Malvinas islands to work on sheep ranch. He arrived in Patagonia in 1905, and started raising sheep on land that he rented from the government. He eventually became the owner of the estancia, which he named Bon Accord. He married a Scottish woman and started a family. I couldn’t help thinking that it must have been an incredibly hard and lonely life. And Gerardo acknowledged that the immigrants who came from Scotland were poor people who were used to working hard and having little. 

Next, Gerardo took us on a short walking tour around the property. We saw the ruins of the first house that William Dickie built over 100 years ago. 

 

Gerardo demonstrated how the dogs would help him move a group of sheep. 

Once the sheep were inside the barn, he showed us the old-fashioned way to shear the wool from a sheep. 

 

Actually, the first thing I noticed in the barn was the skin of a puma that Gerardo had shot on his property.

There was also a pair of boleadoras hanging in the barn. Boleadoras are a type of weapon originally used by the native people.

Gerardo brought us outside again to demonstrate how to use the boleadoras to catch an animal. You swing it over your head in a big circle and then fling it out towards the animal. If done properly, the leather cord wraps itself around the animals’ leg. Some members of our group tried it and found it was not easy.

By the time lunch was served, I was eager to taste the roasted lamb. I wasn’t so sure I’d like the first course, a cold dish of hare marinated in vinegar. Once I managed to banish the image of a fluffy bunny from my mind, I found it quite tasty. 

I had no problem enjoying the lamb that was brought to the table along with an assortment of vegetables.

 

And somehow, I managed to find room for the chocolate torta. 

 

I was truly sorry when it was time to leave the estancia. As I took a final look around at the wide open landscape, I felt a profound sense of peace. Maybe it was because I felt small and insignificant compared to the vastness of the natural surroundings. And maybe it was also knowing how far removed I was from the everyday concerns of my personal life and the turmoil of the wider outside world that I’d soon be returning to. 

 

The following day was “Glacier Day.” Javi had urged us to dress in layers since temperatures were in the 30s when we left the hotel around 8:30 in the morning. I also wore the new neck gaiter I’d purchased in town the previous day. 

 

We drove along the south shore of the lake whose bright turquoise waters shimmered in the morning light. And the rainbow that appeared kept growing as we continued following the main road out of El Calafate that leads directly to Los Glaciares National Park.

 

Los Glaciares, Argentina’s largest national park, was created in 1937 to protect the Argentine portion of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field. (A bit of trivia from my post-trip research – the Southern Patagonian Ice Field is the third largest mass of ice in the world.)

The drive from El Calafate to the park entrance took about an hour. Once we arrived, we stopped in a wooded area where Silvia gave us some information about the park and its over 200 glaciers. A curious carancho (southern crested caracara) looked on as she explained that the glaciers were formed during the last glaciation period, about 25,000 years ago. In the photo of the map below, the location of the glacier is outlined in red.

One of the most famous glaciers in the park is called Perito Moreno. Although the earth’s climate is warming and many glaciers in different parts of the world are receding, the Perito Moreno glacier is actually growing. It’s now 17 miles long and it covers 250 square kilometers (almost 100 square miles) – that’s massive! I’d never seen a glacier before and I could hardly wait to see this one in person. 

We had to drive another 30 minutes to reach the viewing area. I was impressed that there were gradually descending walkways that made it so easy to access the viewing platform overlooking the glacier.

Even standing directly in front of it, I found it hard to fathom the size of the Perito Moreno glacier. It rises 120 to 180 feet above the surface of the water – and much of the glacier is below the water. The blue color comes from light that the compacted ice doesn’t absorb. And I was surprised to discover that the glacier was noisy. The cracking sounds we heard result from its constant movement. It moves about two meters a day. And when the glacier calves, i.e. a piece breaks off, there’s a loud boom when the broken off piece crashes into the water. 

Seeing the Perito Moreno glacier was a wonderful way to spend our last day in Patagonia. All we had left now was our farewell dinner back in El Calafate. Rather than dining in a restaurant, we had a very special meal in the private home of Chef Gabriel, a warm and friendly Argentine who prefers the nickname Gabo. Gabo’s family background is Italian and he’s always loved to cook for family and friends. A quick look around his house made it obvious that Gabo was a man of multiple talents, such as interior design and photography. 

Gabo’s cooking skills were abundantly apparent from the dinner he prepared for us. We started with a delicious vegetable soup followed by the tenderest osso bucco. The dessert was crêpes filled with dulce de leche and garnished with slices of banana. Plentiful Argentine wine flowed throughout the meal. The evening was memorable not only for the food but also for the genuine interaction with Gabo, who opened both his home and his heart to us. It was such a fitting ending to this OAT adventure. 

 

But wait!!! My OAT experience wasn’t over yet! Although the base tour was coming to an end, I had signed up for the post-trip extension to Iguazu Falls and that will be the subject of my next post.