Olavarria, Argentina

After a 900-km drive from Neuquén, I am spending Xmas in the city of Olavarría, Buenos Aires Province, before heading to the city of Buenos Aires.

Olavarría is a city of about 100,000 in the humid pampas, about 400 km southwest of the city of Buenos Aires. The main reason I'm here is because it's my wife's hometown, and she and my daughter have flown here to spend the holidays with her extended family. Tonight we take a bus to BA, where I will finish up the new manuscript of Moon Handbooks Patagonia and send it off, with maps and photographs, to the publisher.

Olavarría is not a city I would include in any of my guidebooks, though a couple nearby estancias (guest ranches) do make it in. It's interesting, though, in that its vigorous economy is a reflection of the country's recent economic success, and the café I'm sitting in is a reflection of modern changes. Don Torcuato was formerly a classic general store, where gauchos rode in on horse carts to make months' worth of purchases; recently, though, it's been transformed into a bistro-on-the-pampas, while preserving the building's original features. The high wooden shelves that once held bulk groceries, for instance, now display the large wine inventory.

Unlike many pampas cities, Olavarría has an industrial as well as an agricultural base, thanks to the nearby cement factory at Loma Negra. In fact, for many years, the biggest celebration here was the Fiesta Nacional del Cemento (National Cement Festival), complete with its own Reina del Cemento (Cement Queen!). That may sound quaint, or even silly, but compared with almost any city of comparable size in the US, Olavarría has much to recommend it--at midnight or even later, the streets are full of people in what is a real community--as opposed to any anonymous bedroom town in, say, Kansas, where being out at that hour might be grounds for arrest.

Saving (or Seeing?) Daylight in Argentina

Anticipating energy shortages in the summer of 2008, newly elected Argentine President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner has proposed a series of energy measures that include modernizing street lighting, turning off unnecessary lighting in office buildings, and raising the temperature levels in air-conditioned buildings--not to mention the return of daylight savings time. All this is well and good, indeed long overdue, but it's questionable whether those measures will be sufficient as long as Argentine energy prices remain so low, in fact largely frozen since the economic collapse of 2001-2.

As it is, natural gas is so cheap that many Argentines have converted their automobiles to run on it. This has advantages, obviously, in reducing pollution, but it's also meant that Argentina has been unable (or unwilling) to meet supply contract obligations with neighboring Chile because of domestic demand. Heating houses with natural gas also remains very cheap.

In reality, Argentina's energy conservation measures are half-hearted and will probably make no real difference over the coming summer or winter (when gas shortages could mean cold apartments in Buenos Aires). Equalizing supply and demand probably also means higher prices that would encourage exploration and use of resources that are not feasible with the present price structure.

In contrast to the United States, where the current regime makes a fetish of increasing supplies (even when the resources don't exist) and ignores the financial and resource savings to be made by sensible conservation, Argentina hopes that a half-hearted set of conservation measures will overcome all the problems that realistic pricing could help solve. For residents, this could mean blackouts; for visitors, it could affect their ability to get around the country.

There's Gold in Futaleufu?

Just a few years ago, determined opposition in the Argentine city of Esquel stopped an ill-advised gold mining project that might have caused serious cyanide leaching runoff into local streams and rivers. Now, however, a similar proposal has appeared near the Chilean town of Futaleufú, just across the border (and bordering Argentina's Los Alerces National Park. The project is set for the Río Espolón, a nearly pristine recreational river that's a tributary of the mighty Río Futaleufú, by acclamation one of the world's top-ten whitewater rivers (and a top trout stream, to boot). The companies in question are Canada's Kinross Gold Corporation and U.S.-based Geocom Resources Inc.

Unlike Esquel, which is a small city able to project itself nationally, Futaleufú is only a village in an isolated part of Chile difficult to reach by road or air (in fact, communications are much better with the neighboring Argentine province of Chubut, where Esquel is located). Esquel could make noise, but that will be harder for Futaleufú.

International rafting and kayaking companies located in Futaleufú are particularly concerned, but their impact on the economy is relatively small compared to minerals interests in mining-friendly Chile. A new blog, though, analyzes the issues.

The Visa Fee Disincentive

The United States has just raised the fee for a US visa application to US$131. As I believe in encouraging rather than discouraging international travel, I find this reprehensible, but it's not the only obstacle--visa applicants must travel to a US Embassy or consulate for a personal interview. This is no big deal if you live in, say, Buenos Aires, but if you live in Ushuaia (four hours away by plane), it means additional expense and time for what is usually only a token conversation with consular staff. For an applicant with a family, this could mean more than US$500 in visa fees, not to mention the additional travel costs, for someone who wants to bring his wife and kids to Orlando (not my preference, but plenty of South Americans do so).

Some countries, notably Brazil and Chile, have responded to the State Department policy by raising their visa fees for US citizens. Chile, for instance, requires a US$100 "reciprocity fee" (which might be called a "retaliation fee") from every country that imposes visa fees on Chilean nationals (including also Mexico, Australia, and Canada).

This fee (which I expect will now rise) must be paid in US cash on arrival at Santiago's international airport--not the best way to greet a visitor who's just arrived on an all-night flight. I can't say it's unfair, but it often means a bad first impression of the country (even though the Chilean visa is valid for the life of the passport). The photograph above shows my reciprocity fee receipt from December 2000, when the fee was only US$45; it'll last me until late 2010.

My understanding, and I may be mistaken, is that Brazil refunds the fee to unsuccessful visa applicants. For a while, in response to US abuse of Brazilian citizens, Brazilian immigration was also fingerprinting US citizens on arrival (which led an outraged Rio de Janeiro mayor to greet US tourists with T-shirts and other gifts, as his city depends on the tourist trade).

Perhaps refunding the money for successful applicants would encourage legitimate tourists while discouraging stab-in-the-dark visa applicants. I'm presuming the State Department's measure has primarily to do with the cost of processing visas, many of which get rejected.

Chile's Dam(ned) Energy Dilemma

For most of the last two decades, Chile has enjoyed South America's most vigorous economy, not to mention political stability, while countries such as neighboring Argentina (and more distant Venezuela) suffered economic and political meltdowns. There's a threat to Chile's prosperity, though, as world oil prices rise. The country imports almost all of its petroleum, but for a small quantity produced in southernmost Patagonia.

The capital of Santiago, meanwhile, has long suffered from air pollution because of its growing industry, burgeoning car culture, and a location that traps hydrocarbon emissions in the same way as California's Los Angeles basin. It needs energy, though, as does the booming copper-mining industry, based in the northern Atacama desert. Meanwhile, the southerly lakes district is so devoid of energy resources that even mid-sized cities such as Temuco (population about 250,000) and Valdivia rely on firewood for home heating (even some surprisingly large hotels produce their room heat and hot water in this manner). The result is that Temuco has some of Chile's worst air quality indexes.

Chile has been looking for energy alternatives, ranging from nuclear to more alternative technologies such as wind (ideal for much of Patagonia), solar (unlimited potential in the desert north), and steam (Chile's volcanic landscape has huge numbers of hot springs). The conventional solution, though, appears to be hydroelectricity, but that comes with its own problems--a few years back, in a controversial case, the Spanish power company ENDESA dammed the Río Biobío, widely considered one of the world's great recreational rivers.

The problem is that Chile's last remaining wild rivers, particularly the Río Baker, lie in the southern Aisén region, the northern sector of Chilean Patagonia, near the town of Cochrane. ENDESA plans to dam the Baker, flooding more than 5,000 hectares of the stunningly scenic Baker-Nef confluence. In the process, though, it would also have to build up to 2,300 km of transmission lines through nearly pristine temperate rainforest that includes several national parks and other reserves, including the private conservation initiative at Parque Pumalín.

The Baker project would provide clean energy for Santiago and the north, but at great cost. Much of the power would be lost in transmission. Much of the southern forests would be denuded. And, because dams collect sediment, the project might not be sustainable in the long run.

There is a vocal political opposition to damming the Baker, and Chilean highways have sprouted billboards urging a "Patagonia sin Represas" (Patagonia without Dams, website in Spanish only). At the same time, there are signs that it's a done deal--Cochrane's Hotel Wellmann, for example, is undergoing a major expansion to accommodate construction personnel even as a cubbyhole office on the town's central plaza continues to struggle against the project.

Chile has much to do in energy conservation--double-paned windows are becoming common in newer buildings, for instance, but a project to retrofit existing houses and insulate them might reduce the need for imported natural gas and diesel. For the moment, though, the country appears to be concentrating on the supply side of the energy problem, and mostly ignoring a potentially rewarding demand side.

El Chaltén

Recovering from bronchitis, I spent two nights in El Chaltén, but the lingering effects kept me from doing any hiking despite fine warm weather--never before have I seen people in T-shirts around sunset (normally they're wearing parkas and hunkered up against the wind). The day before I arrived, though, there had been a brutal storm that kept almost everybody indoors all day, and the lower mountains had a new dusting of snow (which quickly melted with the sun).

When I first saw El Chaltén, in 1990, it was almost only the hardiest hikers and backpackers who made it there--only the Fitz Roy Inn offered accommodations, and most people camped in the free national park sites in the vicinity. Nowadays there are numerous hostels and the biggest of them, Rancho Grande, is building an even bigger hotel. While it only has about 200 or so permanent residents, there are many more hotel, hostel and cabaña beds than that.

Likewise, in 1990, there were only few places to eat, among them the still existing La Senyera (where campers also lined up to get hot showers, as there was no running water, or even toilets, in the campground; campers had to dig latrines). Now, though, El Chaltén has at least three very fine restaurants--Estepa, Ruca Mahuida, and Fuegia Bistro--and several other above average places. At the end of the day, all that hiking--and the hiking is still great even though many more people are on the trail--requires more than just ordinary refueling.

Waiting for Godot's Gasoline Tanker

Saturday's plans were to drive from El Chaltén, Argentina (more on this destination in another post), to the Chilean town of Cochrane via the remote Paso Roballos border post, the southernmost land border in the Chilean region of Aisén. I left El Chaltén around 9 a.m. and, as much of Ruta 40 (Argentina's loneliest road) is much improved and part of it is paved, I covered the roughly 500 km to Bajo Caracoles in seven hours even with stops for photo ops.

Bajo Caracoles, a desolate desert spot known for its namesake hotel (a handsome stone-block construction dating from the 1940s), has the only gas station in nearly 500 km between Tres Lagos and the town of Perito Moreno. Often, though, it runs out of gasoline (though not diesel)--the last time I wanted to use the Paso Roballos crossing, I had to continue 120 km north to Perito Moreno, another 70 km west to Los Antiguos, and then south to Roballos via the spectacular Monte Zeballos road that parallels the Chilean border. In fact, I'm glad that I was able to take the scenic Zeballos route that time, but I had no desire to do it again.

Bajo Caracoles, though, had run out of gasoline again, and several cars had been waiting since the day before (both the hotel and the nearby hostel were overflowing). I had enough gas (in a 20-liter container that I keep as an emergency supply) to get me to Perito Moreno, but not to Cochrane, so I decided to wait an hour to see if the station's owner was correct that the supply tanker would arrive from Comodoro Rivadavia. When I had just about given up, the tanker pulled up about five minutes before 5 p.m. and, even though it took another hour and a half to discharge the gasoline and get us all filled up, I finally got on the westbound road to Paso Roballos by 6:30 p.m.

Fortunately the border was open until 9 p.m. and, since I was probably the only person to cross all day here, things went quickly with both the Argentine Gendarmería (border guards) and the Chilean Carabineros. After driving the 100 km or so to the border, I emptied nearly all my surplus gas (from the can) into the tank but there remained a few liters; the Chilean official was at first insistent that I could not take Argentine fuel across the border (this is technically illegal, but his Argentine counterpart was not even interested). Finally, though, he graciously relented and I carried my last few liters of cheap Argentine gas into Chile. I arrived at Cochrane around 10:30 p.m., having done much of a spectacular route in fading daylight as we approach the longest day of the year.

For motorists on RN 40, Bajo Caracoles will continue to be a problem spot, even as the road south from Perito Moreno gets paved. When supplies are short, they will sell northbound drivers only enough to get to Perito Moreno, though they'll fill the tank for southbound vehicles headed for Tres Lagos. If they're utterly without gas, though, all bets are off.

A related matter: a Swiss couple who arrived at Bajo Caracoles shortly after I did had taken a 70-km detour to Gobernador Gregores in search of gasoline and found none there, thus wasting time and gasoline. Fortunately, they stayed at Estancia La Oriental, in Parque Nacional Perito Moreno (no relation to the town of Perito Moreno which is much farther north, nor to the Perito Moreno glacier which is much farther south) and the estancia sells gas to its guests in need.

El Calafate

It's a mild but overcast early summer day in El Calafate, but having contracted bronchitis I'm pretty much spending the day indoors before I head for El Chaltén tomorrow afternoon.

When I first visited El Calafate in 1990, it was known as the gateway to the world-famous Moreno Glacier--it still is, of course--and one of Argentina's worst tourist traps, with particularly shameless merchants who expected to make a year's income in two short months (the January-February high season). At that time, after local banks closed on Friday afternoon, the merchants changed money only at rates highly disadvantageous to visitors--a dollar would buy 10,000 australs (the currency at the time) at the bank, but only 9,000 from any merchant who condescended to change your money. Service was almost unheard of--at one restaurant, the owner wanted to charge me for two beers after I asked him (quietly) to replace one that arrived with a fly in it.

All that's changed over the last 17 years as the town has grown and matured. Of course, the fact that foreigners can get money from ATMs and a formal exchange house helps, but the quality of services here has improved dramatically. There are hostels now that are better than the best hotels were then, and a boom of upscale hotel building has created some of Argentina's top accommodations, both in style and price (of course). An influx of immigrants from Buenos Aires and elsewhere has improved and diversified the dining scene and, although there are still tourist-trap souvenir shops, there's also some sophisticated shopping. That said, there's not much to see in the town itself, and El Chaltén is a better base for active travelers--however spectacular the Moreno Glacier, which some speculate might rupture next year, it's mostly for passive tourists.

While El Calafate may no longer be the ripoff capital it once was--after I had written that the late tourism director Mariano Besio assured me that "we're trying to do better" and indeed they have--it's no longer the cheap destination it was after the 2002 devaluation. Generally, though, you get good value for money.

I'll be heading to El Chaltén tomorrow afternoon, but my bronchitis won't permit me to do the hiking I had hoped. I may not even be able to add to this blog, as Internet access is limited there.