Today the weather was perfect. I walked along Lago Lacar's north shore and saw wonderful vistas of the Azul blues of the lake through the greens of trees along the shore. Orange and black butterflies busied themselves upon yellow flowers. And on the many rock outcrops Lizars sunned themselves. This afternoon I went to La Pastora: a museum in a house built in 1947 where Che Guevara stayed in January 1952. I saw the loft where he slept and reproductions of letters home. Video showing footage from early life on family holidays, right up until his time in Cuba. Yesterday, I went to the museum "Los Primeros Poblados". which was about the coming of the railway, bridging of principal rivers and settlement of the province of Neuquén.

Thursday: the hostel "La Puma" where I'm staying is quite homely. Usually in hostels you meet many diverse characters and La Puma is no exception. I share a room with Csaha, pronounced cha-sha, Hungarian and Is shocked when he told me he is sixty-eight years old, as I wouldn't have thought he is a day over sixty. He is quite excentric: once he starts talking on a subject, you wonder when he's going to stop, or where it'll lead: he just goes on and on. He talked about the economic crisis in the world, about the bubble where the value of houses kept on rising. Another time about the Falklands War. He had a crazy idea that Argentina should've attached the British fleet at sea before reaching the South Atlantic islands, leading to an escalation of the conflict and the Argentines fighting a guerrilla war if Britain invaded the Argentine mainland, which led the direction of the conversation to The Vietnam War, China and Irak via 9-11. When not discussing the world, he remains active; always out walking and is very handy with a camera. He comes back with some beautiful pictures of flowers and birds.

There is Gianne, an Italian cyclist, though he left his bike with a friend in Santiago and travels by bus at the moment. Also a Kiwi couple Thomas and Julie who have cycled from Viedma via Bariloche by route 23. They are cycling onwards on the road to the north of Lago Lacar to the Chilean border an hour ahead of me. But mid afternoon, I meet Thomas returning to San Martin. He pulled a spoke and when he checked, discovered the rim had given way at the eyelet; therefore needs a new rim, either he'll buy a complete wheel, or buy a rim and have the wheel rebuilt at the bike shop. Meanwhile, Julie will wait for him to return tomorrow.

I found out I would be late for the ferry to Puerto Fuy, so camped early by Rio Chachi, three kilometres in along a narrow dirt road off the main route. This is a blessing in disguise, as the nature here, the aqua-marine waters of the river, the brown and cream trunks and bows of trees and the birdsong are magnicent, but not least the waterfall Cateratas de Chachin down through a very symmetrical gorge.

Friday: I meet up with Julie and Thomas at the Chilean border crossing. The bike shop in San Martin rebuilt the wheel in two hours and Thomas checked into La Puma for the night and returned this morning. I had a very relaxed Friday morning; awakening at nine, breakfast until ten, then walked the kilometre or so along the river to the waterfall; all the way looking up at the trees, which were very tall with interesting shaped bows and branches. The river turquoise contrasting beautifully with greens of the trees and yellow flowering scrubs. When I returned it was time to lunch. And then I broke camp at two, but before leaving was stopped for a chat by Raul and his friends, canoists from Buenos Aires who had camped a little along the river.

The road deteriorated abruptly on entering Chile, from good compressed gravel road to a chaos of large smooth river stones, making the going painfully slow and I thought I wouldn't make it to the ferry at Puerto Pirihuerico on time. I had forgotton how far it was; that it is eleven kilometres and wished I'd left earlier.

We disembark at Puerto Fuy at six forty and found it difficult finding a place to camp in the immediate area, all being village and farmland. So decide to stay in a hospidaje costing six-thousand pesos and four-thousand-five-hundred for an evening meal of fish and rice.

Saturday: went pretty smoothly except I'd a front wheel puncher midmorning near Neptune. In the aforementioned village, we meet a young French couple travelling on horseback. Here too is a memorial to the many disappeared during military dictatorship. Thomas and Julie are happy when we stop for lunch by a lake, a small boy cycles up and they're able to practise their Spanish. This afternoon we've stopped early at a thermal bath. We are invited to eat with a group of parents here with their school leaving sons and daughters celebrating the end of term. They served up pork and sausages which are delicious. Later Thomas makes rice and shares it with me. And afterwards makes a nice desert from polenta with bananas, but I added dulce de leche (a toffee spread) making it perfect. I'll keep this use of polenta, bananas and dulce de leche in mind in future.