Bariloche to Rio Foyel

November 5, 2025

To answer the question from my hostel host "where are you going to today?" Truefully, I don't know where. I have a general idea. I am going South. But, the imediate answer is: I'll end up where my legs and wheels take me in the day. And the following day I'll continue.

After breakfast at the hostel with checkout not until 11, it being shortly after 8, I take a walk into town, buy a take-away coffee and go and sit in the plaza to drink it while enjoying the morning sunshine; the view across the lake; the buzz of the grass-strimmers as the municipal workers trim the lawn and the smell of new mown grass. I love this day-the first day of a cycle-tour. The start. A day to reflect back on in a month or two's time, when if things go to plan, I'll be in the far south of Patagonia.

On the return to the hostel I'd to buy a few days' provisions for the road. Esencials such as pasta, spaguetti sauce, crackers and cheese etc. Produces that are easily prepared and do not weight too much. I fill a basket and at the checkout it comes to 53,764 pesos or £29. Argentina is expensive, but a lot cheaper than home. Back at the hostel I pack it all in the bike-panniers and after saying thanks to my host, set off.

Whatever way you leave Bariloche heading south, its a steep climb. The way I stumbled upon having ridden away from the hostel-street to go left at a tee-junction was a steep wall at about 20 percent gradient. And with so much weight on the back after a food-shop, the bike was back-heavy; it was all I could do not to stop and get off and push. I rode on the gravelly walkway at the side as there was a steady stream of vehicles.

Once over the hill I roll gradually downhill into a roundabout where I join the main Route 40 south and continue upon a wide gravel shoulder as there is a steady flow of cars and trucks on a narrow road. In any case, the big wide 29er tyres revell upon crunchy gravel. This shoulder continues well beyond the limits of town, though eventually narrows and in parts is reduced to a single track. Nevertheless, its nice riding on mountain bike tyres. A few road bikers fly pass on the tarmac and give a wave.

The scenery is how I remember it from previous times I've been this way. It never fails to impress. Grey rocky peaks, dark green wooded slopes and yellow flowering shrubs lining the roadside, like gorse without the prickly fronds. There are lakes- the first is Lago Gutierrez where I turn down a trail to the lakeshore and lunch on cheese on crackers and boil water to make mate. While doing so I have set up my solar-charger and set the phone on charge. In the strong sunshine it is 100 percent in a short time.

Midafternoon I reach the ACA petrol station at Villa Mascardi by namesake lake. There is a cafe where I have a cold coke and log on to the wifi. I Whatsap a photo of Lago Gutierres to a work colleage. He is from Slovenia and has a uniquely funny sence of humour. I haven't fixed any typos as it enhances the joke.

He: Nice view (response to lake photo)

Any wild animals around

Me: A few wild cats

He: Big ones

Me: fairly big

He: Where you sleep in tent.

Me: In tent

He: Ok

Be cerful

Soo bug cats dont eat you 😎

Me: I didnt mention venonous snakes as I didnt want to worry you too much 😎

He: 😃

Cycling couple from Buenos Aires Raymond and Monique.

On from Villa Mascardi begins a long climb and at the top of the first uphill section I catch up a cycling couple on the shoulder resting. We exchange names, they Raymond and Monique; where we are from and whatsnot. They are first and surely not the last cyclists I'll meet. Further I stop at a spot where I remember stopping in 2004 and taking a photo and take one for this tour.

I eventually made it to the top of the long climb and roll down a long sweeping descent to Rio Villegas-a scattering of wooden tin roofed houses at a right turnoff gravel road going west to Chile. Then what goes down goes up again.

It wasn't steep, it was the type of climb with an uphill section followed by a level, followed by another uphill. I had planned on reaching Rio Foyel where I knew I could camp, but I thought it was not that far. Then I reach the small vilkage of La Foyel with the El Viejo Amacar (old shop) advertised on billboards a good way back at kilometre 1960. By now it was spitting rain. An oily fragrance of fresh rain on tarmac filled the air as the road went up again onward from La Foyel. I had hoped of having camp set up early but now it was getting on toward 19 hrs. Anyway, at last the road dropped sharply into a valley to cross a long bridge over Rio Foyel and I go left down a horse trail to the riverbank where I set up my bivuac and cook pasta for supper.

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