Bariloche, Day 3 — Thursday

After my busy day and relatively late night, I had to get up early on Thursday as my tour left at 8.30 am.  I was bright eyed and bushy tailed, because today I’d be going out on a boat on that beautiful lake!

Unlike the minivan of yesterday, this tour was in a large bus, conducted by an efficient woman called Cristina. It was a good hour’s drive along the lakeshore to Puerto Pañuelo, where we were to catch the boat. I love just being on a boat, even if it is a tourist boat full of people and constant commentary about the history of the region. After an hour, we arrived at our first destination, an island that contains the Bosque de Arrayanes.

As far as I can find out, arrayanes means myrtle trees, although that seems to be the subject of discussion. Anyway, they are an unusual shade best described by the brochure as cinnamon, and they have tufts of white growing out of their trunks. To the touch, they are so cold they don’t even feel like wood. To make the walk accessible to everyone, they have built a boardwalk across the island. It’s quite well done, as it is a little hilly and windy.

A sign told us the hike takes half an hour, and they allowed us 40 minutes before the departure of the boat! So there was no time for sketching, and it was a matter of following the other 299 people who came off the boat until we reached the end. I kept wishing I could be there by myself, but it is certainly an eerily beautiful place and worth a little inconvenience.

Thankfully, we all made it back to the boat before it sailed, and then we were on the water again for another hour. Nahuel Huapi is a very big lake, apparently larger than the whole of Buenos Aires Province, and that’s big. Surrounded by the majestic Andes, it captured my imagination and held my attention until we landed on Isla Victoria.

Here we had four hours to spend however we wanted. There were four different trails you could take, with varying levels of difficulty. I wanted zero difficulty, so I chose the trail that led, surprisingly, to the beach. It was about a twenty-minute walk and then I came upon this little jewel of a beach. Quite a few people had chosen this trail, but not enough to make it feel crowded.

Although the Andes, being a much younger range, are higher and craggier than the Laurentides of Quebec, this little lake reminded me of one I swam in with my friend Lynda the summer before I left Canada. If I had known about it, I would have brought my swimsuit, but as it was I had to be content with paddling up to my ankles.

They brought us back into town just in time for a nice early dinner. With no milongas along the way, I went home after dinner and had an early night. This is the sight I saw as I lay in my bed looking out the window after a very satisfying day.