It’s not good news aboard GANNET2 when the dashboard starts flashing an ice warning. It means the external temperature is close to freezing and we hadn’t seen that in a very long time but we saw it as we got up early to get on the road.
The idea was to make as much mileage as we could before breakfast on Ruta 40 toward Mendoza, Argentina’s most famous wine center but even though the highway is paved it’s not a high speed affair. It tends to be a bit of a lumpy road.
Plus we were going into a desolate zone where long sections of road were not even fenced off, never mind seeing much in the way of power lines, houses or farm animals.
It could be anywhere in the southwest. Anywhere without people that is.
I had no idea this part of Argentina looked like this. I had expected more Andes foothills with pine trees and granite rocks not desert.
Administratively this is still part of the Patagonia region even though we are well north of the Rio Negro which geologists say is the northern boundary of Patagonia.
I’m not sure what the billboard means when it asks that we prioritize life. Perhaps there is some wild animal roaming hereabouts.
But it was indeed the sign that we were entering the former provincial capital of 10,000 residents making Chos Malal the largest town since Neuquén. In fact Chos Malal lost the title of capital to the arrival in Neuquén of the railroad. A familiar story 150 years ago across the Americas when the steel horse brought trade and jobs and money to isolated communities in Argentina as much as it did in the US.
We wanted to stop to get gas and lo and behold there was no line at the YPF we thought but a gas station attendant came out to advise us that we had just jumped the line -oops! (The line was the white car in front of the red car below. It looked parked to me).
So we took a circuit round the blocks, several one way blocks, and while on those one way streets we passed unpaved side streets as is the way in Argentina. Think of the joy of living on a street of frozen mud all winter long.
And happening to pass a bakery Layne went in to see about bread and empanadas. It turns out only gringos like empanadas for breakfast so they don’t come out of the oven till noon but we got a bag full of chispás instead.
These are cheese puffs made of Parmesan and tapioca starch and they are more tasty than they sound. So we sat in line waiting for gas eating cheese puffs. It could be worse I figured.
Rusty got bored and went on an unscheduled walk so we made spectacles of ourselves once again at the gas station, this time looking for our wandering dog. Finally we left Chos Malal pretty sure we had the correct road out of town. There was only one way so even Team Lost could screw that one up.
In Tepulche Chos Malal means “yellow corral” ( I took the time to study this while waiting for gas) and apparently that refers to the natural yellow sandstone type walls, raised rocks really, across the landscape.
I think they mean this stuff.
But most of it is pretty arid yellowish dirt anyway, so who knows.
The highway pressed on through the next village called Barrancas where there is a municipal campground and a gas station possibly selling only diesel. We did not stop to investigate as there was a certain urgency on this morning of travel.
It was not very prepossessing in any case.
Desert life.
This was our route for the day though we doubted we’d get all the way to Malargüe where our German friends were waiting for us. It looked to be a long drive.
Plus there was a fly in the ointment and we had been warned about it on iOverlander:
We deeply dislike gravel for the noise it makes, the dust that coats our home, the possibility of damage to our Promaster van and the fact that we average 10 to 15 mph on the stuff to limit problems later, but we like to have a warning that it’s coming. Knowing we were going to be slowed down have us a chance to get up early and press on to get through it before dark.
We got through Ranquil del Norte, another random collection of homes in the middle of nowhere and got ready for the end of pavement.
Oh I love asphalt.
But we knew it was coming to an end.
So we stopped and I aired down the tires to make the ride more comfortable. Layne washed the fruit we bought in Chos Malal.
Rusty napped. It was just about 1:15 when we started on the gravel exactly as we had planned and hoped. I thought we might get the 52 miles done in four hours leaving us enough daylight to find a camp spot to rest.
It takes concentration but I try to spot the side of the road with the least washboard then I have to keep a sharp eye out for incoming traffic.
Quick! There’s a car coming! We have to get off the bridge. Photo session interrupted.
An oncoming car flashed his headlights at us and rolled down his window. “How far is the gravel?” he groaned. “40 kilometers more?” I said, “we’re each about half way.” He looked defeated. We pressed on in what Argentines call the black steppe owing to the black volcanic rock and gravel everywhere.
Gravel roads give the wilderness a particularly remote feeling as though you have fallen off the map of sensible places where people go.
An unoccupied farm house complex.
The black lava canyon, a tourist attraction.
There are hostels and campgrounds in this desolate area offering hiking and visits to cave paintings and such. It’s not as isolated as it seems perhaps.
Looking ahead and seeing dust clouds means the resumption of asphalt is still beyond that point. Sigh.
The river bed looks like a lake on the map.
Black volcanic rock:
At last.
The 52 miles of gravel took us 3 hours and twenty minutes per the onboard computer, at an average 15 mph and 11 mpg. Fantastic, as we normally get around 16 mpg.
I inflated the tires which took an hour and a quarter while Layne prepared ramen for a late lunch as I moved the inflator from wheel to wheel to get us ready for speed on asphalt. Forty miles an hour felt fast after that lot of dirt and dust.
Tapioca cheese puffs, hot tea and ramen. A well balanced nutritional plan for a long day on the road.
But the gravel came back a few times even here darn it.
What happened was the government under President Milei shut down public works funding so new bridges and fresh pavement was planned but not completed.
And never implemented. Musk got his chain saw act from President Milei who promised to correct Argentina’s economic problems by slashing government expenses. He’s done that all right.
We had a well functioning country with an economy the envy of the industrialized world under President Biden and now the stock market is dropping and the President expects us to go into a recession.
Revenge is a terrible way to run a country but he has put us all on notice we are parasites as he goes to another round of tax payer funded golf. You could say my immigrant’s love of the United States makes me bitter and every unfinished public work I see in Argentina reminds me of this sad state of affairs at home, now including public lands soon to be sold off. Outside of national parks there are no vast stretches of public land to recreate on in South America and it breaks my heart to see western states ready to exploit forests where fishing and hunting and camping have been enjoyed for generations.
Our German friends had posted a good spot to sleep for the night and we found it well before dusk. We were tired and didn’t want to drive an hour to pay to pass out in the campground in the town of Malargües.
So we stopped and we were all very relieved to have a veggie burger sandwich and pass out for free at 6500 feet on this hill top.
Webb Chiles mentioned flooding to me on the Atlantic Coast after 16 inches of rain fell on that area of Argentina. Emergency response was hampered as President Milei had just abolished Argentina’s version of FEMA.
I have looked for reports of the flooding in Kentucky and not a peep. The President plays golf in a world I no longer understand.
I feel more privileged than ever to be here but it’s hard not to feel the inner lament for things changing in ways I can’t appreciate.
A cold crisp night of silence and total solitude. Another Argentine moment.
