Kilometres this section : 142
Kilometres completed : 775
I don't get off to the best start in El Calafate, after checking into my hotel and putting my phone on to charge, I attempt to find the centre of town, and fail. Lots of empty lots here... But there is in fact a centre, grown up around the kind of sheltered creek I tend to camp in, and yes, a nice bar with a variety of tasty beer. Of course I have a day off here, washing, shopping - wow, Argentina is expensive, like, three dollars for 100g of own brand chocolate. 125g of Nescafé Gold Blend is twenty dollars! Good thing I am mostly living in a tent then... Sightseeing continues, I pass the polo club, then Laguna Nimez, where there are, in the far distance, flamingos. Back to the tourist area, and indeed the same bar - lots of foreigners here, much as with Puerto Natales, there is glacier trekking here. Better bring dollars with you though - I figured out the ATM issue, apparently you are legally limited to a withdrawal of 2,000 Pesos a day here. Perhaps enough to buy a packet of crisps... In the end I find a place to change my Chilean Pesos for Argentine ones resulting in a thick, heavy stack of bills.
From El Calafate I walk back to the east, on various gravel tracks, or sometimes just gravel. To my left, Lago Argentino, and for a while the town's airport, honestly it isn't too exciting. Good then to reach the bridge over Rio Santa Cruz, the rushing blue water is most picturesque, I am surprised to see it flows out of the lake - and indeed all the way across the country to the Atlantic. My route takes me along the river for a short distance, there's a beach and I can't resist a paddle. Thankfully it also goes through my filter well enough to produce drinkable water. From here, well, I can't help but notice I am now walking across a desert, I keep stopping to empty sand from my shoes, then camp on sand. It's not one of those cold deserts either, the next day is baking, the sun blazing down, my chocolate melts in my pack, water is gone by mid afternoon. Something of a disaster then to reach a river near the end of the day and find it completely dry - my water for the remaining 70km to Tres Lagos is meant to come from here. OK, a kilometre back was an Estancia, there's a guy there, can't understand a thing he says, but he lets me fill bottles and even gives me another one...
I am rather relieved to wake up to an overcast sky, looks like it's raining not far away in fact. This makes for easy going along the dirt track I've been on for a while - actually a public road, provincial route 21, I have seen precisely one car. I pass through some rocky terrain, then leave the road for a few hours straight across the desert. Time to think about camping, but of course it is too windy, I keep going, join a road with actual tarmac running along a winding valley, and now the wind is absolutely crazy. No choice but to keep moving, until in desperation I pitch the tent in the small sheltered area leading to a channel under the road, I guess at some time water runs through here but it is dry now. And I am sure the three skeletal sheep, still with wool, huddled in the channel won't bother me...
Next day I make a coffee with my last water, and emerge from the tent, if anything the wind is even worse, thank heavens mainly from behind, but I can barely stay upright. I stagger along, using my poles held in front of me as if descending a steep slope rather than a gently inclined road. At least it isn't far now, I get through it, and in Tres Lagos people tell me the wind was up to seventy km/hr. Wow. Well, I am early enough to take in the whole town, it is not big. There's actually an albergue here, but the people there say I need to go to a nearby office which is of course shut. To the lone hostel, nobody answers the bell, OK, the campsite it is. Very nice place except for the wind. Indeed, Tres Lagos is cool, kind of a trail town in search of a trail, as well as accommodation there is a cute museum, and many little stores, most of them sell granola bars. Of course I take a day off, the wind doesn't stop, but I manage to walk a little way, to see La Piedra Clavada - an implausible, 20m high diamond shaped rock, perched on one of its points. How the thing doesn't just blow over confuses me. Back to the campsite, and a large plate of spaghetti bolognese, excellent.
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