(74K): Lois Rose and sister Mary Gay enjoying August snow in South America.In early August, my sister, Mary Gay, and I joined the Pentagon Ski Club group, led by Joel Gardener, on a ski trip to Bariloche, Argentina. This was my second time skiing "down under," as Joel had also led the trip I took to New Zealand two years ago.
(To get another perspective on this trip, read Joel Gardener's article in the PSC's October 99 newsletter.)
The trip did not get off to a very auspicious beginning. We got to Dulles for our departure to find out our United flight, coming in from Milan was late and would not get to Dulles to continue on in time to meet our connection in Miami. So Joel sent us by cab to National Airport where we caught an American flight to Miami. This is why you arrive at the airport 3 hours ahead for one of these flights! One woman didn't make the transfer in time. She finally caught up with us in Bariloche the next day. In the rush to check in at National, an American airlines check-in agent at the gate accidentally kept all of one fellow's ticket but the National-Miami part. Joel spent the rest of the trip trying to get the tickets for those two straightened out.
After an uneventful overnight Aerolineas Argentinas flight from Miami to Buenos Aires we transferred by bus from the international airport right through downtown B.A. to the domestic airport on the other side of the city. There we found out our flight to Bariloche was delayed, so we enjoyed lunch in the airport courtesy of the airlines. From B.A. to Bariloche, the Patagonian landscape we flew over, and the terrain surrounding the Bariloche airport when we landed, did not look promising for skiers. It reminded me very much of landing in Reno, Nevada--brown, rather barren looking, and not a patch of snow in sight. But during the bus ride into Bariloche our very congenial guide assured us we would find plenty of snow up on the mountain.
(74K): Lois Rose and sister Mary Gay enjoying August snow in South America.
"Plenty" is a relative term. I found snow conditions on the first day of skiing much like New Zealand with more rocks and ice than I like. As in N.Z., the snow pack only comes half way (or less) down the mountain, so we had to take a high speed, bubble covered six-pack lift up to the ski-able snow, and then take it down again when we were through skiing. Obviously, in times past, they have had snow to the base, or they wouldn't have built so many lifts down there and installed all the snow making equipment, but in recent years they have rarely been able to ski to the bottom, and temperatures are generally too warm to make snow and retain what they make.
(87K): Looking down the Lynch Lift at Bariloche, Argentina.
The mountain is fairly extensive, with a wide variety of terrain, but it is owned, in almost equal halves, by two different families, and never the twain shall meet! Lift tickets for the two halves are not interchangeable. The "Robles" side has antiquated lifts (lots of pomas, t-bars, and slow chairs), is cheaper, and consequently appeals to the young snowboarders. Needless to say few of us tried it. Most of us stuck with the more expensive, more modern "Alta Patagonia" side.
(80K): A view across the snowfield at Bariloche, Argentina.
After the first day of skiing it started to rain, closing the mountain for the next two days, so we all went shopping and sightseeing. Bariloche is not the quaint ski village I had imagined. It is a sizable city of 100,000 on the shores of the beautiful Lake Nahuel Huapi, jewel of an extensive national park system. The setting reminded me very much of Queenstown, N.Z., on Lake Wakatipu. Settled originally by the Germans and Swiss, Bariloche is famous for its chocolate, and indeed, there seemed to be a chocolate shop in every block down town. The architecture of the Civic Center, the main tourist attraction in town with its Patagonia Museum and clock tower, was reminiscent of a German village. As one would expect in a city that large, we could choose from a wide variety of good restaurants--Swiss, German, Italian, and the ever present "parilla," or grill, serving famous Argentine beef. And believe me, folks, they don't skimp on the size of their steaks. I am pleased to say all the weight I gained has since been re-lost.
Convinced the mountain would remain closed the third day (we were wrong), a few of us booked an excursion up the east side of Lake Nahuel Huapi. We got to see a lot more of the surrounding countryside, and were again impressed with the comparison to Nevada--how quickly the scenery changed from brown and barren to mountainous evergreens around the lake. We saw a grove of Arrayanes trees (found only in Argentina), visited another lakeside village and snowless ski resort, saw the manor house where Eva Peron was held briefly under house arrest, and hiked to a spectacular waterfall. None of us regretted missing what was probably the best day of skiing of the trip.
For what was rain in town had been snow up at the mountain about 7 miles away. When the mountain re-opened snow conditions were considerably better, but still just at the top of the mountain. On our last day there the weather cleared enough that when I went to the base to meet my non-skiing sister for lunch we were able to take the cable car, followed by a short chair lift ride, to the very top for spectacular views. We might not have been at the very top of the Andes, but it felt and looked like it!
A nice touch on this trip was the private lounge our 5-star hotel maintained for hotel guests only in the base lodge at the foot of the mountain. We could meet others from our group there, sit and rest, drink free champagne, and eat Bariloche chocolates. I think some of our group spent as much time there as they did skiing! I found it a nice way to end a day of skiing.
At the end of our week in Bariloche, we returned to Buenos Aires for three days of sightseeing. Joel had arranged for our airport-to-hotel bus ride to include a three-hour orientation tour of the city. This made planning our activities for the next three days much easier. B.A. is a vibrant, modern city, with lots to see and do. Among the highlights were a tour of the fine arts museum with its impressive collection of the great masters; a visit to Evita Peron's grave in the unique Recoleta Cemetery; a night at a tango show; a visit to the weekly flea market, complete with its own much less professional outdoor tango show; a stroll down the colorful Caminito Street in the Italian sector; and views of the city's many impressive structures--the famous obelisk on Av. 9 de Julio, the widest street in the world; the ornate Teatro Colon opera house; Casa Rosada, the seat of the government; the metropolitan cathedral. We would have visited the interior of some of these buildings, but the day we had planned for that turned out to be the big San Martin holiday--equivalent to our July 4th--and they were all closed.
Finally it was time to return home. For most of us the flight was long but uneventful. For our two members with ticket problems, one adventure remained. Their tickets for the Miami-Dulles final leg of the trip were supposed to have been waiting for them at the United desk in Miami, but they weren't. Joel checked in, then went off with them to try to get their tickets, and we never saw any of the three of them again, though some of their baggage did arrived at Dulles with us. I later learned they all made it on the next flight out of Miami. So all's well that ends well.
Some general impressions of Argentina? The exchange rate was very easy to deal with. By law there is a one-to-one ratio dollar to peso. You could pay with either currency, and were apt to receive your change in a mixture of the two. But things were not cheap. Postcards cost $1 to buy, and $1.25 to send. A good dinner was equivalent in price to one in the States. Bariloche chocolate is wonderful; Argentine beef is divine (but leave your low-fat, low cholesterol diet at home). They don't know how to cook chicken. The Argentine people are generally handsome, friendly, and helpful, though few speak English. (I solved this problem by taking my Spanish-speaking sister with me as personal interpreter.) The skiing is so-so. I'd like to try it again on a better snow year. But if you get a chance to go, don't pass it up. I've concluded 'down under' skiing isn't the greatest, but it sure beats an August heat wave in Virginia!
Get your own Free Home Page