Biking in Bariloche

The trip to Bariloche was pretty eventless – the buses still full from the end of Holy Week, people clamouring to swap seats to be with their friends. Bad 80s music blared us out of Mendoza and our waiter (aka the second bus driver) got on the microphone to mumble us through some instructions about dinner, breakfast, lunch, the toilet and bus stops. But sitting in the last seat at the back, my much improved Spanish failed to help me figure it all out. Fortunately I had some rice cakes and avocado just in case.

But as we drove through the night, and into the morning, I woke up to find a completely different landscape – one that looks a little bit like home, and a lot like Dampier. Low-lying sparse vegetation covered red rock-faces, with deep blue lakes (ok, so there aren’t any of those in Dampier, but there is a deep blue ocean) threading themselves in between. I scrambled for my camera several times, trying to capture the rocks as they transformed into higher mountain peaks lined with bright yellow, orange and red autumn leaves, but the smudges on the window got the best of me, and my inspiration.

But as we leave the bus station, and head into town, it is pretty clear that I won’t have to go too far to find some more scenery. The crowning jewel of the Lake District, Bariloche is a remarkably quaint town, full of more chocolate shops and Swiss-style chalets than tourists, and I was glad to have arrived with two Swedish girls to enjoy the sights on bike and horse.

The next morning we woke up – after our hearty-included-in-our-room-rate dinner (a backpacker first for this trip) – early to take the bus out to the Cerro Campanario. And at 25 pesos, it is certainly not the cheapest chairlift ride, but it is definitely worth it (particularly when we see the poor couple clamouring up the dirt path below us). Apart from having the most amazing view in the world, there is also chocolate and dulce de leche cake, fresh cream and hot chocolate at the cafe at the top. What more could three girls want?

But heading down to collect our bikes from a nearby rental place, my flip-flop-wearing, cardigan-wearing, stuffed-full-of-cheese-and-wine body was not quite prepared for the biking that would follow. Worse still when one of our group is a regular cycler and I came to the sad realisation that my university-trained butt was going to be hurting. We slowly, but surely went up and down the slopes, passing through chilly lake crossings, grey stone bridges, and amazing panoramas all the way to the cemetery.

Yes, a bit of a strange place for it to be, but I guess it makes sense to the many avid climbers, skiers and lovers of the mountains that are buried there – including two Olympic athletes. We next stopped at the jetty on Lago Escondido to have an apple by the water and catch some breathe before taking the treacherous path to another lake at Villa Tacul. And it is here that bad memories of my bike-tram smash a few years ago return to haunt me, and I start to get a little shaky with all the downhill adrenalin.

Luckily I survive it all, and we get back on our wheels for the last stretch, passing through a cute tea shop to sample their amazing rose hip stuff, and splurging on their hand cream too. But with the last 7 kilometres a series of killer inclines, oily hands is probably is not the best cycling accessory. Particularly when the slope seems deceptively slight – until you hear the cars groaning beside you.

And perhaps that’s the reason behind all the chocolate. As soon as we are off our bikes, we immediately head straight into town for some milky goodness – this time Abuelo Goye, one of the oldest companies in town - and feel the sugar return to our aching bodies, in preparation for another day.