Crossing Nahuel Huapi and Lago Frio to Puerto Blest and Puerto Alegre
Llao llao peninsula juts into Lago Moreno twenty-four kilometers west of downtown Bariloche. The route travels the shore of Nahuel Huapi for several kilometers, then crosses land and with lovely alpine style, wood and stone chalets and buildings perched on the mountainside with picturesque vistas all around. Soon an even grander structure appears in the distance - the Llao Llao Hotel. It gets prettier as one draws closer, but soon the road turns north toward Puerto Panuelo from which many lake excursions depart.
Check the map with the "Puerto Blest" link above (center), and you can see Bariloche to the extreme right with the large Lago Nahuel Huapi above it. Argentina is on the right and Chile is on the left. The Llao Llao peninsula is right underneath the words Pto Panuelo, where we embarked on the first leg of the trip across the lakes to the Chilean border.
The tour boat is a large catamaran which moves comfortably across the waves. April here is near the end of their peak summer season, so the crowds are diminishing. The boat was not overcrowded, but I imagined that it could be at the height of summer.
The sign with the mountain background makes a great spot for photos. ( Esteban
Esteban & Erek
Erek )
Sandrita & Esteban pose by the great crossroad sign. Take a closer look at the Pto. Frias, our turning around point on this trip, is 4 millas (miles) further, and that much closer to the border. Notice the flag colors to the right of the names on the signs indicating that the city or port is in Argentina or Chile.
Sandrita
Sandrita poses solo by the sign.
The dock at Puerto Alegre
There are no cellphone towers, no internet, just pure nature.
Esteban - Lago Frias
Esteban - Lago Frias
Sandrita & Erek - Lago Frias
Sandrita & Erek - Lago Frias
Sandrita Completes Cantaros
Sandrita Completes Cantaros
Sandrita Celebrates Cantaros
Sandrita Celebrates Cantaros
We had driven out Bustillo Avenue, along the lake to the peninsula the day prior to familiarize ourselves with the port, and to guage the trip time. Three or four others were hiking around or taking photographs, and we snapped a few shots of our own. The winds there are relentless only occasionally changing to gentle breezes.
On this day the port parking lot was crowded, when we arrived for the trip, with many automobiles, and several tour buses. Boats of varying size and design were coming and going, and lines formed at the various entry points depending on the agency sponsoring the trip. Once all passengers have boarded, and the safety features have been checked, we cast off, motoring smoothly into a seeming fantasyland.
A tour guide broadcasts tidbits of local lore. Soon we are passing Sentinel Islet where Dr. Perito Francisco Pascacio Moreno is buried. He was a famous explorer and scientist who participated in the negotiation of the border location between Argentina and Chile, and directed the anthropological museum in Buenos Aires. He was given a great deal of land for his contributions, but he contributed more than 1.75 million acres that have evolved into Nahuel Huapi National Park.
I sat in the comfortable seat for a bit, then wandered about the deck. The first stop is Puerto Blest, where the boat docks, and all disembark. Here the group seemed to break up into smaller groups that headed in different directions. I must learn Spanish because I did not understand what was going on. The boat we came on departed with some of the passengers on board, another group started off hiking on a trail into the woods, a third group formed lines that loaded into buses that came from somewhere, and the rest of us milled about the complex there. There were facilities including the ubiquitous souvenir shop. They also provided yerba mate or hot water for those who brought their own. There is a hotel with a restaurant and a snack bar. Which way was I supposed to go?
While we waited there these red foxes
Red Fox came close, looking for an easy meal I guess. They were quite comfortable walking only a few feet away from this park worker,
Park Worker and this family
Fox Family rolled on the ground lazily.
The buses returned after a long wait, so we lined up and got on board to see where they would take us. Sandrita understood, but I was overwhelmed. The short bus trip took us to Puerto Alegre to embark on the next leg of the lake crossings over Lago Frias. The colors of the glacial waters are amazing, and vary from lakelet to lakelet. After rounding one of the mountain promontories the great Mount Tronador comes into view again, and we pass the famous "wall of echoes" where everyone makes a distinguishing shout to make sure it still works. This trip is not long and we arrive at Puerto Frias, the last stop westward in our excursion, and the location of the Argentine Customs office for those continuing on into Chile.
I hope to take that trip some day. Some of our fellow travelers checked in with Customs, and proceeded on a lake hopping journey across the border. After sightseeing and refreshment we boarded the boat we came on for the return trip to Puerto Alegre. There we caught the buses back across a bit of land to Puerto Blest where we encountered those apparent options. We opted to start the hike into the woods, because we also wanted to see Cascada Los Cantaros, the famous waterfall, and signs indicated that that trail would lead us there.
We walked, and we walked; into the Valdivian forest. This region has its own unique micro climate due to the location in the mountains. It was late summertime, but it was cold in the shadows, and I was glad I'd bought the winter coat and warm hat in Bariloche. Yet it was still so moist in the forest the I started to sweat from the labor of much walking, oh yes, uphill. The trek was difficult in some parts, but much of the way there was a walkway constructed of wood - a boardwalk! It seemed to go on forever. Sometimes the slope was gentle, sometimes steep. When it became too steep there were stairways, long climbing stairways. Whew...what had I gotten myself into this time? I didn't have any idea how much further ahead remained, and it was now a heck of a long way back. I heartened myself by thinking that at least the return would be downhill.
Eventually we came to a wooden footbridge
Footbridge suspended over a small gorge with a stream, and shortly after that we came to a tee in the walkway; to the left was a continuation uphill to the Cascada, and to the right, downhill was, well, I had to walk down there a bit to see. A few folks were coming and going in both directions, so it made me wonder. I descended far enough to see the lake come back into view. I went a few more steps and recognized the boat we'd left at the port, and it sunk in. One of the options from the port was to cross the lake to that dock I was looking at below, instead of walking halfway around the lake as we had just done. I determined then that I'd be taking the boat back if possible, and I have to learn to understand Spanish.
Now I walked back uphill to the tee in the walkway, and carried on with the climb. Somewhere I saw a reference to 740 steps, and another to 60 meters; I'm not sure, but its's possible that there were that many stairsteps all combined. Sandrita, Erek and I each had our individual pace, marveling at the sights, and taking pictures, but we would hook up periodically to check on each other. The walkway was deteriorated in places, and it was dark deep under the huge trees, and with all the moisture the wood was slippery. Climbing, climbing up the mountain while earlier visitors made their way down, we pressed on.
The sound of voices indicated people in groups, and then the sound of rushing water assured that the goal was getting closer. The walkway split off to the left to an overlook
Rest Stop area. I wasn't at the top, but stepped over for a break, then headed up again, but before the ultimate goal comes the famous 1500 year old tree;
Fitzroya Cupressoide the millennial larch tree. Everyone poses by the big tree, and a young lady asked me to take her picture, then she returned the favor by taking my photo in front of the tree
Esteban y Larch Tree with my camera.
Enough playing, it was time to get to the falls, so up the walkway I went again. At last I came to the overlook for the Cantaros los Cascada. Honestly, I was a little disappointed, but timing here is important, so if you hope to see those waterfalls in full glory, go in the spring, right after the big thaw, and the waterflow should be the greatest.
The boardwalk still continued further up the mountain, and so did I to view the source - Lago Cantaros,
Lago Cantaros 850 meters above sea level. Gosh, it seemed like more than that!
The descent was relatively nondescript, remembering the moist, cold air, wet walkway, missing steps and waning daylight. I did not want to walk all the way around the lake to get back to the port. There were fewer people walking about, and I saw the guides, recognizable by their blue jackets with park insignia, leaving. They were done for the day. I had to catch that boat. I passed the tee that branched off to the right to the footbridge, and continued down the shorter path to the dock on the near side of the lake. I heard someone say that the boat was docking there for the last trip of the day. It made sense that the park workers would also be riding on that trip, and there they were, crews, rangers, waitresses and all, heading for their respective homes. Follow them to learn the shortcuts.
The boat crossed that little area of the lake in a few minutes, docked at Puerto Frias to load everyone else up, and we set out to retrace our path across the lakes, back to Llao Llao and to Bariloche. What a wonderful day; what unique experiences we had; it is still exciting to me as I write about it, and review the photographs.
We were exhausted, and Sandrita suggested that we might as well linger for dinnertime in town rather than driving out to the rooms and back again. We stopped somewhere for some good coffee, the coffee on the cruise boats was not good, and we shopped for chocolates and memories. That may be the evening we enjoyed the lasagna at the El Boliche de Alberto. On the way out to Llao Llao we had also passed another El Boliche that specialized in seafood, and there was at least one more El Boliche in town that presented itself as a steakhouse. The hardest part related to eating there is waiting until their traditional dinner hour. We sated our appetites and headed to our temporary home, Casa Del Lago, to rest up for the next days adventures.