Four Itchy Feet

February 10, 2025. Los Antiguos, Argentina.

We began our incursion deeper into the Patagonian desert today, driving nine hours from Esquel to the small town of Los Antiguos. Every adventure has its challenges, and this one was no different.

Leaving Esquel, we headed south on the only road that leads into Patagonia. The first and most relentless challenge was the wind. Whatever you’ve heard about the Patagonian winds does them no justice. For nine straight hours, we drove either into or alongside 40 to 50 mph winds. The howling gusts battered our poorly insulated windows and doors, forcing us to keep the wheel turned about seven degrees just to stay in our lane.

We passed motorcyclists—daredevils tucked behind their handlebars, leaning into the wind as they rode straight down the road. It was surreal to see motorcycles tilted as if turning, yet moving perfectly straight.

The wind never relented, and then a sign appeared: “El Camino tiene Baches.” (The road has potholes.) What an understatement. For the next 50 miles, the road was a complete disaster—more like a battlefield struck by aerial cluster bombs. These weren’t just potholes; they were moon craters. At times, the road vanished entirely, forcing us onto gravel detours riddled with large mud puddles and deep indentations. Our poor Renault Logan struggled through it all. Progress was slow, tedious, and at times, terrifying. We even saw a car with a front wheel cleanly sheared off its axle.

After every grueling five- or ten-mile stretch of this destruction, the sudden return to asphalt felt like sinking into a yoga mat during Shavasana—only to be interrupted by the next Bang! Bang! Bang!

In the vast Patagonian desert, an optical illusion blurs the horizon, merging the sky with the road. You only see the “real” road a few hundred feet ahead. This went on for hours until we finally veered off Route 40, heading toward Los Antiguos.

As we turned west, the Chilean mountains began to rise in the distance, showing off their glaciers. Nearing Los Antiguos, we stopped at Lake Buenos Aires—an incredibly vast lake, battered by the relentless wind, sending ocean-like waves crashing onto its shores. It was mesmerizing to stand by a lakeshore and witness waves as if at sea.

We finally arrived and settled into our Airbnb, where our host welcomed us warmly with her son and walked us through our apartment. Her dinner recommendation: Buena Vista restaurant.

A surprising treat in such a small town, Buena Vista could compete with any fine dining establishment in a major city. The food was incredible, and after a day of battling the elements, we enjoyed a quiet meal by the slowest-moving window of the day.