Many things in my life make me feel like an old man. People often tell me I was born either in the wrong decade, or have the demeanor and habits of an 80 year old. Well I take issue, I think 50 year old is more apt. And no matter what I do, I cannot avoid it. Setting out, reading Italo Calvino, listening to bluegrass, we decided to hitchhike to Buenos Aires from Puerto Natales. Where did our encouragement come from? No not the traveling youth as you might expect, but rather from everyone over the age of 50. Who else can understand the joy, the wanderlust, and the despair at traveling "a dedo?"And the stories would come "Ah I remember when. . ." So, in homage to my perpetual middle agedness (even when doing foolhardy or mildly reckless things) Here is a montage of the past few weeks.
1. Rio Turbio It was cold when we left. Our first ride took us 4km. First lesson learned--don't start a day at 8pm, unless you want to camp where you start.
4. Jaime and Nano Well there's no way to really understand this ride. My journal entry: "This is crazy, Loud Led Zeppelin, Hit Guanaco=9pm” He had a guitar (left), he had a son (below). We were happy there. Then he totaled the car, which is sadly what we remember most. The Guanaco is about the size of a large deer. Drivers from all around stopped to check in on us, even though it was clear that no one was hurt. It was very nice actually. Turning to us Jaime insisted that we take advantage of the situation and jump in a truck. The police agreed, and hailed a driver down.
2. 28 de Diciembre to La Esperanza Oh these names are not made up. Our thumbs were poised and ready at 7am, and the car stopped soon after. Well actually it passed us and then 3 minutes later came back to pick us up. We think the conversation went something like this “Hey mom can we stop?,” says Ana “Ask your step-dad,” says mom. “No. . . they have so much stuff.” he replies. Ana, “But really, I want to speak English or maybe even Polish and the car is empty!” (Read: I can't stand it in this car for one more second) “FINE!” Car screeches and turns around. The daughter, 19, spoke to us the whole 2 hours.
3. La Esperanza to a national park outside of Piedras Buenas We picked up this other family of three at the gas station. The father Antonio looked like Che Guevara and had no fewer than 10 images of him in the van. The mother served us more mate in that ride than I had ever even dreamed of. She was clearly a depressed lady, and did not seem happy that we were there. But Antonio was just as certainly leading the revolution and hitchhiking apparently had it's place. They let us out at their next family vacation destination. We were alone again, on the road. The sign read “Buenos Aires 2530km” Caitlin replies “Somos Locos”
5. Carlos, Guanaco-Comodoro Rivadavia
A Chilean trucker through and through. Neat, worried, uptight, very nice, disliked Argentines. . . what more? He took us that night at 9pm and again the next morning at 5am.
So occasionally the Argentine police just want to check your passports at 12:30am. . . We went about our own business decimating those tufts that make pitching your tent really annoying. Great sunrise too, but you'll have to check out those photos later.
6-8. Rivadavia to Trelew Two shortish rides took us to Norberto. He is our Argentine archetype. Although he barely said a word in the 400km we were with him, he seemed to us the exact person Carlos despised. Too tranquilo for his own good perhaps. We traveled at 70kph. (Below)
In Trelew we took a little rest. We saw the archeological museum, and stayed in a hostel. How strange to not feel the hard asphalt underfoot? Even stranger was not sticking up our thumb at every passing car for a few hours. The next day arrived and we set out, this time determined to get far, very far. We spent two hours trolling the gas station. We rejected rides, we were picky, it payed off.
9. Trelew to Bahia Blanca (900km) Diego took us at around 2pm from the station and drove late into the night. He was trucking north with rejected beer bottles, and used cans. He was a little cold at first but soon warmed up. Soon enough we were singing along to the music together. Then the Mate came out. Then night fell and with it the 1980s rock ballads from his DVD player. Finally he flips on the black light and we are set for the ride. He was gunning for home to get his one night a week with his family. But boy did he love his truck.
One more night spent on the roadside behind the next gas station. Trolling worked once, so we tried again. No luck. It was back to the thumb.
10. Bahia Blanca to Guamani Finally at around 9am Juan picked us up. He was incomprehensible. Somehow through the serious campo accent we understood his love for mate. We also understood his complaints about the large land owners who grow all the grain the eye can see. Beyond that it was his smiles and demeanor that kept us amused for hours.
11-12 Guamani to BUENOS AIRES!!! "So beware of police officers" Juan told us. As chance had it, that was our next ride for 80km. But what is even funnier was our final ride. Remember those land owners who exploit the local economy and its workers? Well Juan-Carlos was that exact man. Half the ride this 70 year old was on the phone with Chicago checking the price of grain. The other half he was chatting with us about the US. I must say, for being a capitalist, he had very socialist tendencies, supported health care and state pensions, just didn't want the government involved in wheat price fixing. His air conditioned SUV was a godsend.
4 Days, ~1700mi.
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