Dec. 29 - Good bye Bariloche! Off to Puerto Octay...

Our numbers have diminished. Carrie´s parents have gone back to Chicago after a couple nights in Buenos Aires, and our friend Sally is back on her own. So it´s down to Betsy, Rich, Bryce, Carrie, and Dave. Today we packed up our things and bid good-bye to our lovely house in Bariloche. We had a great time there and it was sad to say bye to our "home", but we were looking forward to moving on.

The plan today was to drive back over the Andes to Chile to a town called Puerto Octay which sits on the same lake as Puerto Varas, where we were 10 days ago. We had hoped for better weather in which to enjoy views of the Andes as we passed through over the border, but to no avail. However, we did manage to stop in charming Villa La Angostura, the Apen-esque resort village we first saw on our way to Bariloche.

There we quickly walked the streets and had a marvelous meal at La Macarena, a meal that both Betsy and Carrie hailed as the best of the entire voyage so far. Dave and Rich were less willing to commit, but it regardless it was the best trout that Dave has ever eaten. For some reason the trout down here taste much more like salmon, and this little bugger was perfectly done.

All good things must come to an end, though, and we still have two border crossings and lots of driving ahead of us. After several hours and little trouble with the authorities, we were back in Chile. Dave had been doing all of the navigating for the team (and it had been spotless so far), and he approached the drivers with a plan, as the map displayed two choices; 90 kilometers of easily-discerned paved roads vs. 30 kilometers of gravel road uncertainty.

The crew was up for the challenge, and after conferring with a passing bicyclist, off we went. Unfortunately, after 12 kilometers of charming rural Chile, we ran smack dab into the lake we wanted to skirt. We turned around, and after a kilometer ran into a local Chilean teenager walking along the road. As we pulled up to ask her directions, she stuck out her thumb. Since we couldn't really ask for directions and then leave her in the dust, we picked her up only to find she not only didn't speak English but had never heard of the road we were looking for.

Back to town we kick her to the curb and proceed another kilometer down the paved road to find a much larger gravel road with a big sign next to it reading "Puerto Octay, 50 kilometers." We sighed, and speed off towards our destination.

After a very relaxing drive through the countryside, we arrive in quaint little Puerto Octay, a sleepy little town further north from Puerto Varas on the same lake. We checked into our cabana and enjoyed some dinner in the main lodge before heading back for some well deserved rest.