More alpine European than South American, I could have easily thought I’d accidentally wandered into a Swiss village. With its enviable location, San Carlos de Bariloche snuggles up to the majestic Nahuel Haupi Lake though the drizzling rain and fading light hid the amphitheatre of snow-capped mountains and glistening glacial lakes.
Bariloche must be the cavity capital of the world. With a main square of cute alpine stone and wooden village houses and an elegant grey stone church steeple all staring over the lake, every second shop sells chocolates and nougat, samples tempting wary shoppers into their chocolate lairs. White chocolate, dark chocolate, nut chocolate, milk chocolate, chocolate-covered fruit, chocolate nougat, chocolate fountains, chocolate fondues, chocolate of every form and shape and size. Feverishly made in front of eager shoppers and sample liberally shared, it is impossible not to be tempted by these sweet flavoursome jewels. Mamushka and Rapa Nui (less sales-y) are my favourites, but it is like a child selecting a favourite toy when they are all so enchanting and enticing. Dessert in Bariloche is simply wandering the chocolate shops sampling tasty sugar-sweet morsels.
However the main reason to visit Bariloche is to travel the inviting trails among the mountains and lakes. There are four main trails to choose from – Circuito Chico runs along the southern flank of Nahuel Haupi Lake, Circuito Grande runs a triangular course around a variety of lakes and the granddaddy tour is the Road of the Seven Lakes (Ruta de Las Siete Lagos) that travels north to San Martin through spectacular landscape. A fourth path takes a variety of buses and boats to weave a marine and alpine path through the Andes to Chile, one of the world’s more scenic and interesting border crossings.
Despite the fact I haven’t ridden a bike further than ten yards in over five years, I am assured that the best way to explore Circuito Chico is by bicycle (and chico does mean little!). Running along the lake, I am assured by the smiling tourist office that the path is flatter than a sumo wrestler’s mattress and a comfortable undertaking for anyone of average fitness with lots of stops on the way for enticing panoramic views. High on chocolate and with a promise of fine weather, I relent and hire a bicycle.
Packing my backpack with nutritious sticky nougat and enough chocolate to fuel a Tour de France team, the morning is picture perfect. Bypassing further shops flogging chocolate (can all these shops really stay in business selling the same goods?), the road hugs the glistening lake for kilometres passing the inviting Cerra Otto (the view from a later mountain is vastly better) and Pretty Beach (Playa Bonito) until reaching Cerro Campanario.
A short and slightly rickety chairlift (or aerosilla) ferries my exhausted legs to the top for a commanding view proudly described as one of National Geographic’s top ten views of the world. Always suspicious of such lofty claims, the 360 degree panorama is truly staggering and apparent the second that I clamber off the aerosilla.
Stellar panoramas (top photo), bracing mountain air, and breathtaking natural scenery abound in every direction. To the west, a chain of snow-capped Andean mountains is the scenic border with Chile while mountains in layers of deepening blue fade to the horizon only blocked by a handful of taller nearby peaks. The chaotic arms and legs of Nahuel Haupi Lake glisten and highlight the deep dark forests of the shoreline while other lakes daub the landscape. Bariloche seems a long forgotten starting point and is visible to the east almost twenty kilometres away.
Named like a Chinese giant panda, the exquisitely sited Llao Llao (pronounced jow-jow) Hotel (arrow in photo) sits on a narrow isthmus of land and doesn’t spoil the vista of this natural wonderland. 
Only a few kilometres further on is the Weiss Family Smokehouse. For 40 years, this Austrian-born family has been smoking various meats and fish making for a worthwhile brief detour before reaching the wooden St Edward the Confessor Chapel and the imposing and palatial Llao Llao Hotel. The chapel was closed but the hotel is open for business.
Though dressed completely inappropriately for this luxury hotel and somewhat sweaty and dishevelled, I front up for a reviving coffee and snack. The overly polite staff greet me like a long-lost son (they train staff well in fancy hotels!) and usher me to a quiet, hidden discrete corner.
Fully uplifted, the Circuito Chico leads towards a small forested peninsula for a tour around Perito Moreno Lake (who founded Nahuel Haupi National Park and for whom the famous Patagonian glacier is named) towards the hotel. A tiny forest hides the suitably named Puerto Pañuelo (Handkerchief Port) that offers boat trips to various islands within Nahuel Haupi Lake including Puerto Blest which eventually leads to Chile.
Following Nahuel Huapi Lake’s inappropriately named Tristeza (sadness) arm, Lopez Bay (Bahia Lopez) has more superb views of forested hills before crossing a small bridge that finally turns back towards Bariloche and back for further deserved indulgence into chocolate and nougat.
The Circuito Chico is a superb (and long) one day cycle (or half day bus ride) around stunning Andean scenery with a Swiss flavour and a highlight of the Argentinan Lake District.
Map courtesy of Bariloche Lake Front
Saturday, August 6, 2011
The Switzerland of South America (Bariloche, Argentina)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Enduring the Col du Tourmalet (France)
Watching highlights of the Tour de France on television as I write this post, I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t the greatest endurance test of any sport. For twenty-one days, the finest road cyclists in the world ride the roads of France including the savage slopes of the Alps and Pyrénées. Over 15 million spectators stand by the roadside and on the slopes to watch the cyclists live at some point throughout the tour.
Some years ago, I drove up a couple of the famed cycle passes of the Pyrénées (not during the race!!) and couldn’t help but be amazed by the steepness and narrowness of the roads even in a car. The most celebrated is the Col du Tourmalet, the highest road in the Pyrénées, where the cyclist climbs and winds his way through multiple hairpin turns over 1500 metres in a distance of around 20 kilometres. It is cycling at its most gruelling and is often where the race is won or lost.
Names of favoured cyclist are painted across the roads while superb mountain vistas and verdant farmlands spill from the road’s edge while amateur cyclist struggle their way up this mighty climb throughout the warmer months. 
At the top, there was quite a gathering of cyclists (more than there are cars), primarily from France but some holidaying from other countries. I spoke briefly with a man from the nearby town of Pau who was in his sixties. Appearing decades younger in the sleekest and most colourful of cycling outfits, this diminutive Frenchman tells me that he has climbed this pass (along with other Pyrénéan passes) every year since he was sixteen – almost fifty years of cycling. He appeared fresh and relaxed and quietly proud of his achievement, even with his understated, dismissive way of discussing it. It is likely that he’d be now in his seventies and I wouldn’t mind betting that he’s continued to maintain his annual Pyrénées pilgrimage.
Ironically, we chatted under the silvery monument to Octave Lapize, the rider up the first Tour de France climb of this mountain peak in 1910. The thought of riding this slope as a dirt track with a heavy steel, primitive, ungeared bicycle adds more to this achievement exactly 100 years ago.
The Pyrénées are one of the wonders of the world with their rich culture, glorious vistas and timeless villages. Every year in July, the strength, colour and bravery of the world’s cyclists bring the Pyrénéan mountain tops to life in the Tour de France.
Note: For a second great Pyrénées travel wonder, check out the Little Yellow Train.
Photo Credit: Tour de France
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Cycling the Death Road (La Paz, Bolivia)
Chiselled through the steep-sided travel wonder of the Yungas Mountains in Bolivia, the rough one-lane road from shrouded La Cumbre (at a lung-bursting 4700 metres above sea level) to Corioco (at a tropical 1100 metres) is variously described as the World’s Most Dangerous Road and El Camino de al Muerte (the Road of Death). There is supposedly a death every week or so.
With fog, rain, mud, dust, no guardrails and sheer dropoffs of many hundred metres, it hardly seems the description of the ideal holiday bike ride. Everyday adrenaline soaked cyclists share this treacherous but spectacular road with delivery trucks and vans. One slip and it is your last journey.
Your heart leaps every time two of the trucks pass each other. The downhill truck, belching fumes like a heavy chain smoker, moves gingerly to the outer edge, wheels teetering over a steep fall while the uphill truck carefully sneaks down the inside, the numerous paint marks and scratches worn like scout merit badges, a legacy of past successful journeys.
For the keen mountain cyclist, it is an exhilarating opportunity to plunge over 3,500 vertical metres over 60 kilometres (35 miles) of undulating dirt road with only two short uphill portions. Just think, 60 kilometres and hardly the need to turn a pedal. 
Masked with thick fog and mist, little prepares you for the road ahead as your bikes are unloaded and you rug up for the freezing few first kilometres. The only two uphill parts of the whole journey are early on, which is great as pedalling starts to initiate enough blood flow to warm the fingers and toes and ears. Little can you believe that in a five or six hours, you will be sipping cold beer wiping away a dusty sweat in the steamy Amazonian jungle town of Corioco.
As the day clears and warms, your mind is a muddle. Peeling a layer of clothing every half hour as the temperature climbs with the dropping altitude, the mountains start to open up as the mist wafts away. Wanting to enjoy the staggering mountain vistas, waterfalls tumbling down the sheer cliff walls, your eyes dare not venture at all from the rutted road immediately ahead for fear of missing a turn. Your mind resonates all day with the strong message “control your speed” and “don’t use the front brake”. You get the feeling that one lapse and you could be swan-diving over the handlebars and into the jungle below.
Riding the World’s Most Dangerous Road is a truly great travel wonder and travel experience. And the scariest part – the ride back up the road in a truck returning to La Paz.
Footnote
Recently, a new road has been built through to Coroico meaning the trucks and vans are no longer on the road. But the cycling continues. I travelled with Gravity Bolivia who were highly professional with good quality bicycles, a well-equipped support vehicle, enthusiastic experienced guides and a strong claim that they haven’t lost anyone to the road. As an update, Alistair, the head of Gravity Bolivia has left a message that "... even though the old road has not been closed to traffic, almost no vehicles use it. On the other-hand, an ever increasing number of bikers do use the road, and each group of bikers has a support vehicle, so sometimes it is still quite busy."
