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South American Explorers |
Written by: -
John C. Kaufman
3874 18th St.
San Francisco, CA 94114
Dates: - 1/98-2/98
Email: - jk@jk.com
Comments: - Many people I've spoken with (and books I've read) don't
realize or mention that Chile's Paine National Park is accessible from Argentina. This
doesn't count the traditional route people take by air from Buenos Aires to Santiago, then
S to Punta Arenas, or the ferry some take from Puerto Montt (south of Santiago) to Puerto
Natales, the latter of which serves as the staging area for expeditions into the park. If
you prefer these traditional routes, see other trip reports on getting to Natales from
points in Tierra del Fuego or from Puerto Montt.
This trip report is written to offer an alternative to traditional routes to Natales and
Paine National Park from Argentina.
A friend and I flew to Buenos Aires and continued S by air to Rio Gallegos, Argentina,
which lies on the Pacific coast of the country at the 52d latitude S. The plan was to rent
a car in Gallegos and drive west across Argentina's southern Patagonia to the Chilean
frontier - and on to Puerto Natales and Paine National Park, where we planned to backpack.
(There are no flights that operate between the two towns.)
What we didn't realize upon arriving in the small town of Gallegos was that it was illegal
and/or "impossible" to rent and drive from there into Chile. It was naïve for
us to think we could have done this, in retrospect, because I don't know of any continent
(except Europe) where a traveler can legally take a rental across an international border.
(I would appreciate feedback to the contrary.)
We were turned town by several car-rental agencies in Rio Gallegos, being told we'd need
to find a car AND a driver who owned that car (with the papers to prove it) in order to
legally make the trip. And, no, they could not help us.
Not so easily put-off, we walked over to the Gallegos airport where, scantly an hour
before, we had arrived from BA to a cluster of hucksters, money-changers and an assortment
of other shady characters, all of whom we'd quickly dismissed because we were looking for
a car rental, not a guide.
Airports, of course, can be ideal places to find guides. They can also be the worst
places. We started scouring the small terminal for a set of trusty eyes who might agree to
chauffeur us across the entire southern cone of South America to Puerto Natales, wait two
weeks while we hiked Paine National Park, then return us to Gallegos - alive. It seemed to
us to be a tall order, as we'd earlier heard that no guide had ever done this.
Nevertheless, we were set on our objective, and no rental-car moron was going to tell us
this couldn't be done.
We figured from previous experience that we'd have to pay a guide about US$75/day for such
a service. Multiply that by 16 days and tally in other expenses for the driver (hotel,
food, tip), and we came up with a tidy $1,500 we'd have to fork over. The hucksters at the
airport saw us coming - we were two blonde gringos with bull's-eye targets painted on our
foreheads. Suckers looking to get sucked. For cash.
In the ensuing airport "interviews," in which we sized-up and dismissed pleading
driver-candidates one-by-one in rapid fire - knowing who to ignore and who to add to the
list of possibilities - word quickly spread to town some five kilometers away that two
norteamericanos we were offering a small fortune to the right driver (turned out we were
the only gringos in town). Within 30 minutes, there suddenly appeared from Rio Gallegos a
boisterous gaggle of so-called drivers - probably 30 of them - who'd heard of this
potential boondoggle, clamoring to get our attention. The situation quickly turned into
mayhem, and a brawl broke out among a half-dozen drivers over who would get to speak with
us. Fists started flying. The unruly group was quickly arrested and carted off to jail,
with another transported to a local hospital for treatment of a broken arm. We were a bit
stunned at the ruckus we'd helped inspire - especially after being in town for only a few
hours. People in jail. Broken arms. The police.
We settled on a man named Jose, whose sister worked at the local automobile club. After
interviewing Jose, his sister and the manager of the local auto club, and after conducting
a thorough inspection of the car, off we went for the long haul to Puerto Natales, a
14-hour drive.
Jose was eager, as anyone in Rio Gallegos with a potential $1500 in his pocket would be.
Before leaving Gallegos, he drove us around town to help us stock up on provisions (itself
worth $75 that day as all the stores were closed, a Sunday, and had to be opened just for
us). We bought an extra tire (our expense), extra plastic tanks for petrol which we
strapped on to the roof, and white gas for our cooking burners.
Driving across the sole road that links the long stretch between Rio Gallegos and Puerto
Natales is a lonely proposition. We drove the entire distance without passing a car, and
most of the distance without signs of a ranch, building or person. We saw lots of rheas
and condors, the latter of which are so powerful in those parts that they are known to
swoop down, lock their talons onto unsuspecting sheep and carry them off for eating. Jose,
my friend and I joked about how ranchers in southern Patagonia should strap their hapless
sheep onto the underbellies of horses to prevent their being snatched away by the ruthless
birds. And how do you suppose condors kill their prey? Peck them to death? No, they drop
them from high altitudes. That explained why we saw so many sheep carcasses along the
roadside.
The gravel road to Natales is virtually without a single curve or hill. The grasslands on
both sides of the road sway in the stiff wind, creating stunning swirls of gold and green
in the light. As we approached the Chilean border, a horizontal row of twisty clouds
formed in the sky ahead, looking like a sideways tornado in its blackness and fast,
revolving movement. They became more menacing as the southern spine of the Andes came into
view, and we scanned overhead for funnel clouds as the sky turned into a roiling sea,
throwing out bolts of lightning and claps of thunder. That's when the hail began, even
though the clouds were four hours ahead of us. And of course, that's when we got the flat
tire.
There is a single motel on the road from Gallegos to Natales, called "Hotel."
It's a green concrete building with the word "HOTEL" painted in large, white
block letters on its sides. You can't miss it. We decided to continue on into the
afternoon and evening, trying to reach Natales before our goal of midnight.
Driving along the road reminded us of driving through Kansas. Flat as the top of a
Marine's butch cut, we could see for miles in all directions. In Patagonia, Montana could
lay no claim to being the true "Big Sky Country." The dome of the sky was so
broad it seemed to reach below us.
This was a place where few outsiders had been, we sensed. We were alone and we hoped for
no more flat tires, as surely no help would arrive for days. We were a tiny speck in the
sea, at the mercy of Jose and his rusty car, sounding as it did like bucket of bolts,
ready to fall apart at the next pothole.
The Chilean border check, as with any frontier outpost, brought on a sense of anxiety.
What if the car really didn't belong to Jose, but to a friend? What if the papers weren't
in order? What if the border was closed? This was Jose's first trip down that road,
although he showed no concern about our passing through the swing-down gate. In fact,
passing through was a ten-minute operation, made pleasant by an offer of coffee by the
sole guard on duty and an opportunity to stretch our legs and survey the countryside at a
standstill.
After the border, we almost immediately dropped down a steepish grade into the lowlands
that form the base of the Andes. The Patagonian flatlands, we had realized, had been a
plateau of sorts. The peaks ahead rose slowly on the still-distant horizon, and we sensed
a dramatic change in the climate. There was much more wind now and horizontal rain, with
an occasional waterspout that swirled over the lakes we were now beginning to pass. A deep
cut in the mountains provided for the passage into Puerto Natales, where we found a basic
motel before heading up to Paine the following day for our backpacking operation.
As nobody at the inn or elsewhere in town we spoke with had ever heard of travelers to
Paine entering from the east, we were taken for a couple of crackpots. "Why didn't
you just fly into Punta Arenas and take the bus up?" most people asked with
amazement.
Indeed, the trip from Rio Gallegos was an off-beat, but pleasurable way to enter Natales.
If you're traveling from the USA to Natales with no major side trips planned, I would
recommend the Buenos Aires-Rio Gallegos-Natales route. Sure beats the well-worn path from
Tierra del Fuego, and you, too, could have fun with the locals at the Gallegos airport.
Exchange Rate: - US1= 1 Argentine Peso; US1= 450 Chilean Pesos
Rating: - 10
Weather: - Alternating between clear and stormy
Terrain: - Flat as Kansas, until you reach Chilean Patagonia, then jagged peaks
Hotels: - There is one "hotel" and restaurants along this stretch of road, and it is possible to stay with ranchers or homesteaders along the way. Don't know the cost of the hotel as we didn't stay there, but I would think it would be no more than US$20, given its location and lack of people in the area.
Route: - By car, Rio Gallegos in the S of Argentina on the Pacific,
west across the southern cone to Puerto Natales, on the Atlantic coast of Chile, with
driver. Total crossing time was 14 hours; Be CERTAIN to bring at least one spare
tire, food, water, camping gear.
Essentials: - Reliable driver and car with a few spare parts, including tires (mentioned above). You WILL get a flat. Water and food, as villages are few and distances are vast.
Countries: - Argentina, Chile
Interests: - Driving, Touring, Trekking
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