Bariloche VI: Thundering Mountains and Flying Horses
Expect the Unexpected
Mount Tronador was high on my list of places to see. The mighty mountain had been calling my name for weeks and I was chomping at the bit to spend a day there checking out its hiking trails and surrounding area.
Towering at 11,334 feet above sea level, it is the highest peak in Nahuel Huapi National Park, Argentina. Classified as a stratovolcano, Tronador last erupted 60,000 years ago. Chances were in our favor it would stay dormant for one more day while we visited its rocky slopes.
Under normal driving conditions, we could be there in less than an hour, but the steep mountainous driving conditions and narrow gravel road bumped the estimated drive time to 2 hours 30 minutes. No hay problema. Our route took us east through the lovely Lake District, winding along the shorelines of Lago Gutiérrez and Lago Mascardi.
Both lakes are located in a huge wetland basin formed during the ice age. Less than five miles apart, the lakes are separated by a gravel plain that runs along the Continental Divide. On the east of the divide, the waters from Lake Gutiérrez eventually drain into the Atlantic Ocean; while the waters of Lake Mascardi, head in the opposite direction and drain into the Pacific Ocean.
STOP THE CAR! Where the heck are we???!! We drove NORTH EAST from Bariloche. The Continental Divide is WEST along the Argentina-Chile border. How did the Continental Divide get moved to the EAST of Bariloche?
Did God get bored with the Northern Patagonia landscape and decide He just wanted to spice everything up with a switcheroo? Something is just not right. Hmmm. How odd.
This map says Tronador is SOUTH WEST of Bariloche and it straddles the Argentina-Chile border. How is that possible?
Oh no!! It’s happening AGAIN!!
My malfunctioning internal compass pulled another fast one on me. Although I’d been in Bariloche for over six weeks my internal compass obstinately refused to recalibrate to the Southern Hemisphere. It spun round and round, inside out, upside down, over and under, twirling and searching for True North - only to come up with no bearing. Fritzed. Zonked. Kaput.
It had my mind ADAMANTLY convinced that the sun rose in the West and went down in the East. West was East so North was South.
This is how a compass appears in the Southern Hemisphere. I’m not messing with you. (It actually makes sense when you look at it and think about it.) Apparently, you have to turn the compass to a certain angle to get it to work properly in the Southern Hemisphere.
I wonder, if I tilted my head on an angle to one side would I have gotten my bearings straight?
If you want to know more about how compasses work in the Southern Hemisphere, this link has good information:
https://www.spsnational.org/the-sps-observer/spring-summer/2016/compass-confusion-answers
Fortunately, I could still read a map and override my whacko compass.
We were on the right road. We were driving WEST NOT EAST.
Mount Tronador is noted for its eight glaciers, five on the Argentina side and three on the Chile side. Translated, the name Tronador means “Thunderer” in reference to the loud thunderous booming sound of ice and rock breaking away from the glaciers.
Worn down by thousands of years of erosion, the mountain no longer resembles a volcano, which is why some refer to it as Tronador Hill. That is one gigantic hill if you ask me! The hill is composed mostly of basalt, which is an igneous rock formed from lava, rich with magnesium and iron.
Tronador is recognized as one of the top eight hiking destinations in Argentina, so we were fortunate to have the opportunity to spend the day there. We arrived at Pampa Linda, a small hamlet with a restaurant and a hotel at the base of the mountain just before noon.
We planned to HAVE lunch. We did not plan on BEING lunch.
The instant we got out of the car we were ATTACKED!!
BOMBARDED by swarms of snarly, gargantuan HORSEFLIES!
There weren’t just one or two of the dive-bombers. The air was THICK with them, as far as the eye could see.
HUMUNGOUS HUNGRY HORSEFLIES - all charging in to chomp a pound of flesh and slurp a pint of blood out of our hides.
It was a horror story. The invasion of the horsefly. We bolted for cover, swatting and swiping with the buzzing nutjobs hot in pursuit. Scrap the idea of eating at the restaurant. We’d be human hamburger meat long before we ever got we got there. We ducked into the closest building that was open. A few of the enraged hotheads even tried to break through the windows at us.
Here is the low-down on horseflies, in case you are ever attacked by a frenzied bomber squad of the lunatic snipers.
Horseflies are attracted to movement and dark color.
So does that mean if we stood still like frozen ice cubes they would have ignored us? I sure wasn’t going to test that one out.
Horseflies are the fastest-flying insects on the planet.
Studies have recorded male horseflies topping the speedometer at 90 m.p.h. Yup, you read that right. It is impossible to outrun them. To put it in perspective, if the winged creep were the size of a human, he would be clipping along at 4,000 m.p.h. The slow-Joes can gallop along at 30 m.p.h. That still has me beat by a long shot.
Horseflies are a global pest.
Unless you live in the extreme Arctic or Antarctica, these detestable bugs are hanging out somewhere around you.
Female horseflies are the biters.
(FYI, the one in the window picture is a female. You can tell by the line space between her eyes.) Here is where it gets really ugly. Those ruthless she-flies don’t just bite - they skewer you, carve a chunk out of you, suck your blood, and then inject you with disease-laden bacteria to make you sick and miserable. Winged diabolical nutcases, the lot of them!
Mature horseflies have a short lifespan, ranging from three to sixty days. Did we just happen to be at Tronador during the height of the infestation?
The invasion called for a change of plans. We were outnumbered.
Hiking was absolutely out of the question.
I’m surprised our photos aren’t completely speckled with black horsefly silhouettes.
Hunkering under our jackets for protection, we made a quick dash for the car.
From the safety of the vehicle, we admired Tronador and concluded our run-in with the incensed winged brutes was probably more the exception than the rule.
Not once had I seen any mention of horseflies in any of the glowing promotional materials about Tronador. Not even a hint. Either the Bariloche Visitor’s Bureau had a warped sense of humor, or we picked a really bad day for our excursion.
We headed back to Bariloche which, incidentally, was northeast of us – for sure. I think.
There are no coincidences. Born and raised just a stone-throw away from the Canadian Rockies, I have been on lots of alpine hikes. I’ve NEVER had an experience with a quadrillion horseflies before. I’m not sure what the greater purpose of that experience was.
It was a day to remember.
Thanks Fauhn. I'm glad you are enjoying them.
I love reading about your adventures!