Wednesday
It was time to leave BueƱos Aires for the mountains and Patagonia Run 2019. After an hour-long taxi ride and a two-hour wait at the airport, we were glad to get out of the city and see some Andes.
On the plane to Bariloche, John had the pleasure of sitting in front of a young boy in high spirits. He expressed his enthusiasm by kicking Johnās seat, putting the tray-table up and down and making sounds Iāve only ever heard before in cartoons. Every now and then he yelled, āOH MY GA!ā
Argentina seems very flat. At first it was like an ironed patchwork quiltāsquares and rectangles of farmland in different shades of green. Then it was all unfenced and brown with white splotches. After a couple of hours the land started to wrinkle up and form mounds. Just as we caught sight of Lake Nahuel Huapi, though, something happened to distract us from the view.
The plane, you see, did a zoomie. That is, it put on a sudden spurt of speed for no apparent reason. I have flown in other planes and they didn’t do that. John and I exchanged a glance. The boy yelled, āYeehaa!ā
A few moments later the pilot made a rather breathless announcement in Spanish.
āHe says he had to abort the first landing because of a warning,ā John translated.
āOh,ā I said.
The plane flew around for a bit longer. Everyone was subdued. The plane descended towards earth again and I couldnāt help feeling it was going a bit quickly.
āWow!ā yelled the boy as he saw the lake up close. As the plane hurtled toward the runway, our little friend was thrilled and egged it on with a hearty, āArriba!ā
There was a āthunkā and the plane seemed to take a long time to slow down, but otherwise the landing seemed to have been successful. There were no flames or explosions. The passengers all burst into heartfelt applause. This stimulated the boy to whoop and clap as loudly as he could (which was very loudly).
Bariloche airport looked like somebodyās house. Not having any check-in luggage, we zipped through it and hailed a taxi. The taxi driver drove very slowly to the wrong hotel and charged three times as much as a Buenos Aires driver would for the same distance, but we got there in the end.
The town was lovely, on the edge of the big, shimmering mysterious lake. It smelled like pinesap and woodsmoke and was populated by a lot of fat stray dogs, each one of which seemed to sleep in front of its own particular shop. The town’s main specialty seemed to be chocolate and in fact it was having a chocolate festival, clearly meant to coincide with the Easter tourist rush.
Thursday
We got up at seven and took a taxi to the bus station, where we had breakfast of cafĆ© con leche and churros filled with dulce de leche (which is sometimes translated as āmilk jamā).
The bus ride to San Martin de Las Andes took four hours. It was chilly outside and I had to keep wiping condensation off the window to see the view: dry hills covered with jagged rocks, funny round little tussocks, big bright blue lakes and a couple of beautiful rivers.
The onboard entertainment was En Las Estrellas (Up Among the Stars) about an alcoholic movie director and Aquaman about a muscly merman. Both were pretty watchable though I couldnāt follow the dialogue (the latter had been dubbed into Spanish).
Just when Iād lost all feeling in my legs, we arrived in San Martin de Las Andes, a pretty town nestled between hills and sitting on the shore of Lake Lagar. The shops all had log-cabin facades, doing up the āmountain lodgeā theme, but at the same time they were pretty expensive (we later saw a jacket for sale for 33,000 pesos, which is equivalent to US$783!!!). The streets were planted with roses having their autumn bloom, and there was a big rose dell in the park near the lake. I thought this was a good omen, because roses run in my family.
We were both exhausted and a bit grumpy but I managed to get to race HQ to collect my race pack. When I told the registration official I spoke English, she directed me to a tall, sunburnt guy named Tim. āHe is Australian. He will be able to help you,ā she smiled.
āNah, I donāt speak Kiwi,ā he deadpanned, which was how I knew he was Australian.
Tim apprised me of the basics. I asked him if he lived here and he said he did. Heād been backpacking around South America and while hitchhiking had been picked up by a local girl. One thing led to another and heād been here āin Paradiseā for ten years.
That evening John and I had a pretty good pizza and ravioli at Bar Del Pueblo, which was packed with other customers wearing running T-shirts and carrying race packs.
Friday
I woke up at 8 to a cold, misty morning. After a quick coffee downstairs, I walked a couple of blocks to the briefing session for the marathon. When I arrived the hall was half filled–there were about two hundred people there.
Several people in the meeting had special matĆ© mugs and were sipping the mixture through their metal straws. Every now and then they topped it up with hot water from a thermos. MatĆ© is something Argentines really drink, which constantly surprises me. I wonder why it hasnāt caught on in other parts of the world.
The man delivering the briefing was the race organizer. He was clearly a good speaker and a charismatic person. I didnāt understand anything he said but gathered from the pictures on the slideshow that there was going to be a lot of wind and that we shouldnāt litter. The only English word of the speech came at the end: āThanksā. Everyone clapped and āSweet Child oā Mineā came blasting over the speakers.
Thinking about the āmuchos vientosā, I decided I probably needed a thermal top so John and I went looking for one in town. This done, we stopped into a cafĆ© called āUnser Traumā and did some serious carb loading.
Now for some sleepā¦hasta maƱana!
You write with a great voice, and your work is always fun to read!
Thank you Felipe! <3
By now your marathon is over (or maybe not?) Thinking of you dear Katherine. You are my hero. I am in awe. Thanks for all your descriptions it really makes me feel like Iām there with you and John. I wonder what John did while you were running? Canāt wait for the next instalment!
Thank you very much Kay! The run was great but I am still sore three days later. John waited several hours–I think he expected me in a bit earlier!
He mustāve been a tad worried. Hope your musckes are restored to normal soon. Terrific achievement!