Hiking, hiking, hiking (drinking).

Ah the lake district, home of chocolate, mountains and, well lakes of course. My introductiuon to the Lake District was in El Bolson, a hippy hangout for years and known for its 'positive ions' and weed smoking, of course the 2 aren't in any way linked... For someone as fundamentally opposed to physical exercise as myself, I think i did extremely well in the hiking stakes, adopting a ´when in Rome´approach. The first few days passed easily enough with some mild hikes with a group of people who adopted me from day one (very handy as they cooked very well, even if they were quite annoying and inclined to say 'I'm mad me'). After each hike, we forced ourselves to walk the extra km to get to the mircobrewery, of which El Bolson has many. This one served a wonderful chocolate beer and an almost as good raspberry beer (and lots of proper ones for the proper beer drinkers out there). So following this vigorous regime I decided I was fully primed for a gruelling 2 day hike up a mountain way past the snow line. I was accompanied this time by a couple and one half of a couple whose other half was incapacitated by blisters. By this point I'd realised that I should never be allowed to hike on my own as I have no sense of direction or path observation skills. Know your limits.

We set off confidently on day one and little know to me an dthe otherg girl, immediately set off on the wrong path, a mere 40 minutes later the boys chose to let us know...perhaps a boy could explain the mentality of knowingly going the wrong way at the start of a 6 hour hike to me...Anyway, 3 of us decided to backtrack while one decided to traverse the river (up to his pants) instead to avoid backtracking. We arranged to meet at the next bridge. After a death defying crossing over a one at a time bridge (a la Indiana Jones, lots of missing wood and lurching) we got to the meeting point to find...no sign of Tom. We searched, trying not to assume the worst (that he'd fallen into the river taking my bag that he'd borrowed with him) but to no avail. We had lunch and waited for half an hour before noticing a sign in sticks on the ground... 'Gone Ahead, Tom'. Ah well. Unfortunately for me I was left with 2 of the quickest hikers the world has ever seen, I couldn't even shout loud enough to say I needed the toilet. We scaled a 1000 metres in about an hour,and soon caught up with a relaxed Tom, which at least meant that I could relax my pace and stop seeing stars.

The long hike up was well worth it, the area was covered in thick snow and almost completely untouched. I could rave about its beauty but I think i'll use the phrase I used then 'Its a bit like Narnia isn't it'. (Oh for a wider reference base). Our refugio for the night was a log cabin on 2 floors with a log stove and lots of log chairs. We made ourselves at home and cooked up a tomato soup based storm before sampling the refugio's own beer (very good, although this may have been because we hiked for 6 hours to get it). The next morning the parties divided, me and Tom were going for an easy 5 hour hike down to El Bolson, while the couple were heading to a different refugio for a 2nd night in the hills. After hiking up the steepest, snowiest mountainside imaginable, with nowt but our trusted sticks for support, we realised that we'd possibly gone too far down the wrong path and were still following the couple who were heading to a different place. Just to put the paths in perspective for you, they are marked every now and again by tiny red markers or occasionally blobs of red paint, on the odd tree. Very easy to miss as we discovered. We walked on for a while before realising that not only had we lost the path completely, but we'd also caught up with the couple who were equally lost. Still high above the snow line with the glare from frozen lakes and snow hurting our eyes (well ok I had sunglasses on, but it would have hurt if without) we trekked on for hours, eventually deciding to split up again. Tom confessed at last that we were accidentally ehading to the same refugio as the others and we'd have to walk a further 3 hours from there to get home. As we had buses booked for the next day we pushed on, feet aching as much from going down as up, and thermal leggings increasingly slowing down my already paltry pace. We trudged on and on for hours, until a mere 8 hours after we started we reached the shop where we could call for a taxi and drink lots of fizzy drinks and eat chocolate. I thought we'd never make it. Apologies to everyone who made it to the end of that story, it lasted almost as long as the hike itself.

I now find myself in Bariloche, a bigger town in the lake district which is known for its wonderful hikes, sadly I'm not in the mood to appreciate it. I have however been bowling with some people I met in Puerto Madryn originally, and gotten a chairlift to the top of a mountain to admire a view. I've also eaten a lot of the fine chocolates they make here. Very strenuous and exactly what Im in the mood for.