I'd rather be a forest than a street

We are trying to make up for the last blog title with a slightly more obscure one.

Following two unremarkable nights in Rosario, we headed into the sticks and ended up in the Camino Real Estancia in Santa Catalina, 50 miles north of Cordoba. Pausing briefly for the obligatory photos of the Jesuit architecture for which the area is famous, we got down to the serious business of relaxing, Estancia style. Two days of indulging on lovely home cooked food, chilling by the pool and comic equine capers followed.

We should also mention getting to and from Camino Real entailed driving nearly 100km of dirt track. This was not what Vauxhall had in mind when they ‘designed’ the Corsa; it was also not lost on the hitch-hikers we picked up on the way to the main road. They may have been grateful for the lift when they got in, but they were definitely less effusive with their thanks when they finally got out.

A drive along yet another dirt track brought us unknowingly to La Cumbre, the paragliding mecca of Argentina. Never ones to pass up an opportunity to try something new we gamely allowed ourselves to be strapped to random strangers, ready to launch ourselves off the mountain. Having seen J’s textbook take off, C was confident hers would be just as smooth as her instructor’s patter. An undignified scramble down the mountain later, resulting in numerous cuts and bruises, and both Ryders were safely cruising the thermals 1500m above the Cordoba Sierras. We have posted some photos here but they do not do justice to the beautiful landscape that we now know is best viewed from the air.

After a week in the car we were a long way from our next flight, so a couple of long drives staying in random towns in even more random hotels (think Fawlty Towers, without the glamour of Sybil) followed. Some glorious hiking in the Grand Sierras broke up the journey, where the highlight was condors swooping close by overhead.

We then travelled to Northern Patagonia for the marine life. Penguins, dolphins, sea lions, elephant seals, along with armadillos and guanaco were all ticked off to various degrees. The one absentee were the much anticipated Orcas. For once, the Ryders were in the right place at the right time and waited patiently for three hours for the famous spectacle of killer whales launching themselves up the beach to snatch sea lion pups. However, there had been a diary mix up, and the Orcas didn’t show up. Very disappointing.

Our next journey was to Bariloche, on the edge of the Andes, and it was a joy. For once we had chosen the right bus company, and reclined in horizontal luxury for the 12 hour overnight journey. We are staying in a cabin by the lake and have only been here a day but have already bonded with the owner of the cabins. So much so in fact that he phoned at midnight last night to ask if we like fish and then turned up on doorstep ‘uno minuto’ later with a freshly caught trout. Argentinian hospitality at its best.

So here we are, anticipating a much needed haircut (J) and a steak (J) and looking forward to tomorrow’s rafting adventure (C & J).

Highlights: The 400,000 strong penguin colony at Punta Tombo; delightful little chaps made all the more entertaining by the fact that this is moulting season, resulting in some fluffy comedy side-burns and jazz beards. Unfortunately the three that we smuggled out and kept in the bath (remember Gemma the seal anyone?) have since passed away from what we can only assume were pre-existing conditions.

Lowlights: At the risk of repetition, J’s credit card is now the subject of a fraud investigation (following the scandalous misuse of his bank card in Rio). He has now entered a Kafka-esque nightmare of mind-numbingly incompetent bureaucracy, presided over by the twin pillars of uselessness, Barclaycard and Visa.

Malbec count: We have lost count, but conservative estimates currently hoover around 14, along with some fine Argentinian beers.

Penguin count: Thousands

Sea Lion count: Hundreds

Condor count: Tens

Elephant Seal count: Three, one of which may have been dead. Not quite the 7,000 mentioned in the hitherto trustworthy Rough Guide.