The Width of Argentina-the Hard Way

It really wasn’t bad, but it had its moments. 

As we said goodbye to our friends at Los Ombues Lodge, Juan Pablo Sanchez Gave us impeccable directions to a place they all thought would be enjoyable to us, La Cumbre, several hundred kilometers west in the foothills of the Andes.  We essentially ignored his directions and plugged it in our Garmin Overlander GPS. The Overlander has two modes: one driving on roads and the other is for exploring back country. In a serious brain fart I chose the mode for explore. All went well until we got within the last 50 miles of our destination. More about that in a bit. 

Heading out of Entre Rios province it took us an hour to get out of Los Ombues Lodge the 10 miles to the highway because it’d rained heavily a couple days ago and the muddy roads were hardening into something resembling miniature grand canyons with deep ruts.  Our first clue the GPS could lead us astray was when it attempted to take us across a small shortcut to the highway that lead to an impassable ditch in the road carved out by rain. Three old gauchos watched us go back-and-forth with puzzled looks on their faces   

The next several hours were spent running the Elevated highway across the impressive Parana River plain then onto the literal bread basket of Argentina, Córdoba Provence, country as flat as Kansas and packed with intensive agriculture. As we skirted the provincial capital city of Cordova, we began to see foothills and, right as rain, the GPS took us into them. That’s what we asked it to do.  Winding suburban roads became country roads and soon enough became one-lane switch back roads. It was about here we realized our mistake with the GPS settings. Heedless, we went on.

The switch back roads became pasture gates.  The scenery was fantastic.  As the hours drag on we realized we had nowhere to go but forward, because we skipped our typical habit of provisioning ourselves before we hit the road. We had no food and minimal water. We were hungry, kind of pissed off and we had no choice but to see it through. We almost gave in to camping because we saw a hand-carved sign advertising camping and food. The campground, nestled in some tall pines, looked derelict. We came across three gauchos skinning a cow. When we inquired about camping they shook their heads and through toothless grins as they sharpened their knives said “no, no camping”.  

Back on the trail. Two hours later we rolled into the suburbs of La Cumbre. After finding the town square, and every restaurant in town closed, we did our favorite thing which is find a small grocery store, buy the Artisanal bread, meats and cheeses of the local area, along with some wine, and, after spending $30 on two giant armfuls of good stuff,  headed out for a place to camp.

We found an empty campground on the edge of town, and were greeted by the amiable host. He informed us the camping rate was 150 pesos each and included full run of the kitchen, grill area and bathroom with hot water and showers. About $9 total US. 

The campground sites were separated by interesting antique trucks.  Our first camp.  

Things were looking good.