Bariloche, Patagonia, Argentina

On our two-hour flight from B.A. we flew across what reminded me of the badlands of Wyoming, vast, uninhabited, hilly and BROWN. Just as when approaching Jackson Hole, you begin to see snow-capped mountains in the distance, and then, suddenly, you drop into this jewel of a valley, and green, blue and white are the colors that strike you.

Green – as it is summer now, trees are out and HUGE roses are strutting their stuff everywhere. Blue – because the biggest lake in Argentina is here, as well as many smaller ones. Our guides say the color of the water is more beautiful since the Chilean volcano that spewed ash all over the area, causing some mysterious chemical change. White – because 12,000 ft. snow-capped mountains surround; to the west the Andes form the border with Chile, the same area of the plane crash described in “Alive.”

We are in a hotel on the lake which would be lovely if it weren’t an “art” hotel. Two-thirds of the art is strikingly bad. Our room has three paintings: one of a fat women in see-through underwear sitting on a man’s lap, one of a woman who looks like she is having sex with the sheet, and one of two people kissing with their tongues forming a rope of tongues outside their mouths….I am NOT kidding. Our friends got landscapes and animal portraits in their rooms….oh well.

We came on a day that in Maine would be called “a sparkler;” crystal clear and no humidity with sun glinting on far-off glaciers and on the white caps on Lake Haupti. The air is so dry that you need smotherings of sunscreen, dark glasses and water, water, water all the time.

Yesterday our guides, Diego and his two cute sidekicks Letti and Melissa, took us on what was supposed to be a mellow kayaking trip on a smaller lake that isn’t as susceptible to the Patagonian winds.

My idea of kayaking was the open, beaten up, plastic jobs which we use to gunk around in, close to the shoreline, in Maine; stopping to pick up shells or chance a swim.

Luckily, here we were in seagoing fiberglass two-seater kayaks with skirts to keep the water out and pedals to steer, and had an hour’s lesson before we set out. The first half of the trip was reasonably calm, but suddenly the wind attacked the lake. Oddly, the boats were most stable going into the wind, but at some points on the way home cross winds put a shiver down your back.

Diego admitted, when we had all safely landed, that he had been anxious when told he was in charge of this group of sixty and seventy somethings who wanted to explore the best of Patagonia, especially when his mother told him he was crazy to take us. Then when the wind came up his anxieties must have peaked. Landing in the strong current of a creek was tricky, but all landed, and Diego pronounced he was proud of us (mostly I think he was relieved).

Once I was out of the kayak, I leaned down to pick up my paddle and whoops….the swift current filled the kayaking skirt hanging down in front of me and off I would have gone, except for the swift action of Leti, who held up the paddle for me to grab. That afternoon we spent on a casual hike up to an overlook with a spectacular view over lakes and mountains.