The tuft of grass steppe in the first daylight look like thousands of shimmering red hedgehog. In return Blogs burns the sky before us highlights the landscape. We come back to the backbone of South America, to the Andes. Ten days ago, we had to leave? on the road to nowhere. Each level meter reverts back to the Green, we are no longer seen. Beautiful it is here, and yet we have our return to the mountains delayed, wanted a bit of the lost preserve that we have more than 4000 kilometers had worn.
Ten days earlier, the wind just the first of dust on our white Ford blown. Particularly, we have so abgefunden that the wind our car out of the hands, if we have a gap wide open. We have given up, to go so slowly that the wheels do not thick stones against the cars skid. Especially we are, of El Calafate in the south, in the village of El Chalten at the foot of Mount Fitz Roy arrived? when the car suddenly no longer Mucks of itself.
FOUND IN ... MERIAN Argentina content Issue bestellenwww.merian.deUnser car rental companies, more than 1000 kilometers further north in Bariloche, is sure that it is the key. He send us the spare keys with the night, he says on the phone. The key to come in 30 hours for us. Where we hinwollen next?
I'm counting on it: always to the north, on the Ruta 40 through Patagonia, to the coast, on the Atlantic and further north again through the country. "But there is nothing," he says, and can not believe this is our itinerary should be. He adores me alternatives down, they all lead on better roads, he says it provides good with us and with his car. But our resolve is clear. The great writers who have already Patagonia, are also not followed the asphalt? but the stories that should make their way along.
Almost a massive ice wall perpendicular high
"I knew it was the area menschenleerste America and one of the least known about this? A result of greenhouse legends, half-truths and misinformation" Paul Theroux
It is late at night, we sit in a CervecerÃa El Chalten home before beer, our eyelids are heavy, the legs are there already. The time since a key route, was walking intensive. We are Ascended to Laguna de los Tres, where the prongs of the Fitz Roy is very close to where all the wind noise wegpeitscht where stone in the middle of a desert of a lake is bright turquoise.
We are equipped with crampons on their feet on the Viedma glacier marches, it is one of the largest glaciers in the country. Getting into one of the glacial valley between two walls, a swimming pool blue tunnel and then almost vertically up the massive ice wall? with the help of two picks and the claws of the crampons. And always on the safe line of mountain guide Freddy Schulz, who now sits beside us beer.
He has long black hair and dark skin of his grandmother, a Mapuche Indian. Mr. Schulz from Germany was his grandfather. Freddy was 14 years ago to El Chalten, when there was still no phone, no bakery, no restaurants, no big hotels, as only 60 people lived here. Today, there are 700th We will soon seem very much.
It was not the key. We find a mechanic, who opens the hood, release the starter and twice with a thick stone suggests it. That's it, the engine is running. There was dust on the contacts blocked. We keep going. Behind us is shrinking, the Fitz Roy massif, then the pavement ends, and now offers us the Patagonian dust really opposed. The stones now knocking really loud against the ground. It is difficult to control the wind not to leave us on the road to keep only one runway in the sand. Left and right unending chain of mesetas, the erosion of those hills cut the geringelt as layer cakes. Each layer of an era.
Streuselkuchen from grasses
The steppe around us is a Streuselkuchen from dry grass, each blade hard and sharp as a needle. When one of the gray streussel rises on stilts and on the road running, then he is a rhea. If small brown stones of the street auffliegen, there are birds. Brown swab in the steppe are guanacos, a mixture of Lama and camel. White swabs are sheep. You are the reason that we often break. Wild horses are the reason that we honk, because otherwise they make no effort, to clear the road. Cars we rarely encounter. There is no electricity, hardly something that would be seen as a fence.
For hours we drive through a country that has no discernible benefit. Who owns it? Who manages it? Can you manage it all? They have told us that the size of a estancia not only measured in acres, but also in the number of cattle. Because many acres are worthless if it has few cattle to feed themselves. The Estancias are small piles of civilization in Ödnis, just like the construction sites and gas stations. Tres Lagos is one who is not tanks, will remain. The nearest gas station in Bajo Caracoles is 400 kilometers away.
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