Driving the Seven Lakes circuit of Patagonia

Because you’re going to look at these pictures and think, “Wow. That’s really pretty.” And the pictures do look pretty, but pretty is not the word that comes to mind on actually being here. Stunning. Powerful. Enormous. My photos diminish the lake district. I can not convey to you the scale of these mountain lakes. They are enormous. They are monstrosities. Usually, in the morning, the winds that come over the mountains are still and the lakes are clear and peaceful, reflecting everything around them - but then the wind whips over the lakes and the constant waves begin. There is a continuous sound of water like on the hull of a boat. Standing on the shore of the lakes, I do not feel like I am standing next to an enclosure of water. Instead, I feel like I am standing on an island. I know, at that moment, that the land I am standing on is just a raft on the water. That the whole world is water. Looking out across the water, I am tiny. Distance becomes entirely unpredictable. The shore curves for miles and miles without any break.  The beach is a million colored stones. There are no sharp edges anywhere. The water has worn them from everything.

While driving, the first lake I approached confused me. The road was shady and surrounded by mountain trees. Then suddenly there was blue coming through the trees. I thought it was the sky. I thought I must be driving along a cliff and the blueness was the sky. But the sky seemed to be undulating. I didn’t know exactly what I was seeing. Then, there was an opening in the trees, and everything was water. The blue was not sky, it was the water. The water here is completely clear and extremely cold. The lake floor is rock.  The wind is a physical force.

The drive is called The Seven Lakes but there are more than seven and they are all amazing. The paved road lasts…for a while..and then it to gives way to its surrounding. It becomes “ripio” which is a road covered in gravel and large rocks. Driving down it, my entire car vibrates. It vibrates so much that my turn signal keeps flipping on by itself. Eventually, the light in the ceiling of the car vibrates out of its case and dangles from its wire, swinging madly in my rear view mirror. Places where the gravel is thickest are dangerous and slippery. As I am coming up a hill, a truck comes too quickly around a curve. The back of the truck swings in a wide arc as the truck tries to make the curve but has no traction. It begins weaving back and forth trying to regain control. At the last possible second the truck comes to a skidding halt, his back tires only a foot from an unbarricaded drop straight down. I do not drive that fast on this kind of road from that moment on.

I have been driving this road for two hours and sometimes I feel like I am lost in the woods, randomly driving through trees – it feels so remote. But, I know I am not lost because there are no choices, no forks. Just one snaking long road.  Sometimes, it is surreal to come around a turn and find cows standing in my way or horses lying along the road side. There are no fences.  I feel like I can’t possibly be driving on a major road and then suddenly around a curve there is a bright yellow warning sign and I am surprised to see a reminder of civilization. As I move from one lake to another, the road changes to dirt and the spongy old leaf material found on the forest floor. The trees take advantage of the peace from the water to encroach on the road. There is no undergrowth because the massive tree canopies block out the light. Suddenly, in my path it is dusk. Then ahead, the sun is brilliant again and the blue water is so blinding that I am squinting but I can see absolutely nothing as I make the transition from the forest to the lake.

I had chosen to take a detour on this route to Villa Traful on Lake Traful. It is about 2 hours off the main route (if you drive slowly like I do). It has a small tourist support structure with camp grounds and a park information booth but the town is tiny.  This is their bank. One concrete room with an ATM and a satellite dish outside.

The school is one big room with kids of different ages all in the same class. The town is not fake quaint. It’s just small and perched on one of the massive lakes. Villa Traful is know for the trout caught from the lake I had the best fish of my life (sorry Rob) here. It doesn’t look like much:

But it was amazingly moist, and sweet – with a light sauce and almonds. Created by the restaurant Salon De Te. The town and the views around it were well worth the trip.

The Seven Lakes. Don’t call them pretty. These lakes are not pretty. Pretty is too fragile a word for them. They are powerful. They are vast. They are intimidating in a way that all nature must have been to us once – before artificial light and the weather channel. The clearness of their water, the sheer width between their shores, the pure whiteness at the crest of the waves say “life, life, life” the way nothing else can.

In the long string of pictures above, the third from the top, those two tiny black dots on that long white shore - those are two people fishing...to give you at least a small sense of scope.

You can see a larger version of these pictures by clicking on them (from my blog page - for email readers, you have to come to the blog).

The rest of the pictures (yes, there are more) are at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jamiesuec/sets/72157604441020368/show/