The bus ride from El Calafate to El Chalten was a huge improvement on my previous 22 hour border-crossing-river-riding marathon. Essentially this was because it only took 3.5 hours. But also because, in spite of the miles and miles of flat yellow scrub, it was a beautiful journey. The road ran long and straight through cowboy country with whirling dust and silence as our accompaniments. All I needed was for Clint and his poncho to ride up and make my day.
But the finale came as we approached El Chalten - suddenly, shimmering in the weak light like a mirage, huge dramatic mountains rose up in front of us. We appeared to be driving straight towards them, heading for an almighty head-on crunch with nature. Just as suddenly our bus turned right and we pulled up in the little town - Capital of Trekking said all the signs. That's quite a statement in Patagonia. There's a helluva lot of competition in these there parts, partner.
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