South American Adventure - Day Eight, Thursday 27th February 2014

We are leaving Estancia Rincon Chico this morning – all too soon.  The transfer is booked for 9.00am so we had breakfast at 8.30am.  Roxanna asked how we would like our eggs – poached I think this morning.  This seemed to be a new one on her – and Maria.  “How do you do poached eggs?”  Cookery lesson number one.  They came out rather good for a first attempt – and they seemed very pleased they had added something new to their repertoire.  It doesn’t take long to pack when you haven’t unpacked – the down side of this trip.  Living out of a suitcase.  I will be sad to leave this place  - it was just perfect.

We were waiting on the porch for Juan to arrive and the family of pet guanacos came to say goodbye.  They are so friendly – they come and have a sniff around our faces and necks as if to give us a kiss goodbye.  Then the little one picks up the ash tray with her teeth and Paul had to rescue it (one of the Italians smoked).  She started to eat the cigarette butts instead – yuck!  We waited and waited – Juan did not arrive.  What is plan B?  Haven’t got one.  There is no internet until 7pm tonight when the generator comes on, and no phone signal.  Oh well – perhaps we will just have to stay here.  9.30am comes and goes and then at 9.40am Augustine comes out and says that he has spoken to the transfer company on his satellite phone, and they have us down for a 9.00am transfer.  Correct.  He tells them they have a problem – it is 9.40am and no Juan.  They have a problem – I think we have a problem.  No passing taxi here to flag down.

In the distance he spots a moving speck of light.  “There is a car coming” he says.  It is like looking out in the wild west trying to spot the dust from the wagon trains.  The car stops to open the gates along the way and just keeps driving – doesn’t bother to shut them after him.  Augustine is not happy – he could lose all his sheep through an open gate.  For the second time this morning we introduce something new – the word plonker.  They hadn’t heard of that word before, but I have a feeling they may be using it again.  Then the car stops a half mile away and all the doors open.  “Perhaps he is cleaning the car” says Augustine “he has plenty of time!”  At last he arrives – in shades and shorts – and we get the cases in.  Big hugs from Maria and Augustine and Roxanna – how many times does this happen from the owners of the establishment?

We get under way, and he does stop and shut all the gates on the way back.  Hopefully the sheep didn’t spot the open gate and make a run for it.  They all seem quite happy – as far as being able to spot a happy sheep goes – so probably not worth the effort.  For about an hour we are on the gravel roads – and the rattle is still there.  Whatever was about to fall off is still holding on for dear life.  We pull onto the tarmac road, and we must be in range for the phone signal.  His mobile pings quite a few times – wonder who that will be?  As we have plenty of time (!) he pulls over and reads his texts.  He sends a convoluted text back – probably easier than speaking to someone and getting his ear chewed off.  No doubt he needs time to get his story straight.  We now travel at 140km an hour – passing everything else on the road.  Don’t panic Mr Mainwearing – they won’t go without us! 

We do the three hour trip (Roxanna’s timing) in two hours and a quarter.  Not bad – we are all still in one piece.  The airport is as pleasant to check in to as it was to arrive.  Very civilised.  Juan brings the bags in, takes them to the check in desk and hugs the baggage man.  Hopefully with them chatting they won’t notice how heavy our luggage is.  No, they don’t.  No excess baggage charges here either.  There is an airport tax – 32 pesos each, about £20.  I think this is for the airport rather than the government, as we haven’t had to pay it anywhere else.  Even time for a coffee before we board the hour and a half flight to El Calafate! 

The flight left early – my god, everything so far is punctual.  We got another box of biscuit snacks, a lemon biscuit and a chocolate biscuit.  Those that have been on the flight since Buenos Aires will be getting their second box – and after El Calafate the flight goes on to Ushuaia, so those staying on will probably get three.  Lucky them!  El Calafate Airport was as small and clean and efficient as Trelew – although the bags did take a little while longer to arrive.  When they did they were soaking wet – we had arrived in a rain storm.  We were met by a chap from Eurotur, who said it hardly ever rained in El Calafate – seem to have heard that one before.  By the time we had driven to the downtown area – about twenty minutes, the sun was out again and it was really warm.  A good part of my 27kg of luggage is jumpers and warm clothes – not sure I am going to need them.  This was one of my “cold” stops.

The town has a very alpine feel – many of the shops and restaurants are chalet style, as is our hotel, the Posada Los Alamos.  Although this is a huge chalet, which takes up both sides of the road.  One side is a golf club and swimming pool and restaurant, the other side mainly rooms.  We are checked in very quickly and taken to our room.  “Up in the elevator, and then you have to walk” we were told.  We are in the loft conversion!  But it is  a lovely room, with a slanted ceiling, and a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table.  “My sort of hotel” says Paul.  Happy again – whoopee.

We walked the two blocks or so to the main street, and decided to have something to eat in one of the pavement cafes.  The whole feel of this town is après ski – and a good proportion of people are young backpackers I think.  Most of the menus are again in Spanish, so just pick a number, any number, and see what comes!  I think we are getting a little better than that now, and what we thought we ordered was what we ordered.  It was a “Home Beer” pub, and the lager Paul ordered was a non gassy cloudy offering.  We sat at the restaurant that was the fullest, thinking it must be the best, but I think everyone else must have done the same.  We found out the chef was called SpongeBob – hmm.  It filled a hole – not like Maria’s cooking.