Patagonia is fantastic nature, endless expanses, fierce winds, and rugged landscapes.
A vast region at the end of the world, which is, without a doubt, gigantic in its beauty.
But today, it’s not just about nature, but mostly about heartfelt encounters.
Today I want to tell you how important interesting people are to me. Because often, I find new acquaintances to be far more, exciting, and even much more important for my well-being than breathtaking landscapes, which I have probably seen somewhere else in a similar form.
Don’t get me wrong, of course the eternal vastness is impressive, and I love wide open spaces more than anything, but in the end, I remember meaningful encounters much longer.
I need contact with people. I’m the type of person who enjoys talking, but also likes to ask questions and listen. Learning, exchanging, understanding remain particularly important to me.
I think it’s only when you’ve been traveling alone for many years, like I have, that you truly learn to appreciate these exchanges with strangers. Being alone can be exhausting and lonely, so it becomes even more important to learn how to connect with others, even when you’re far from home.
I believe I can confidently say that I’ve learned this very well over the last decade and know how to approach people. It’s extremely important to me.
In short: For me, making acquaintances are the icing on the cake on a journey, and they usually stay in my memory much longer than lifeless rock formations or windy vistas.
Although the right balance is what makes it in the end, because being around people all the time can quickly become too much for me. But that’s not what I want to focus on today.
Patagonia gave me many such beautiful encounters, all of which are meaningful to me, and I’d like to share some of them with you today.
Now, just a brief look back to the past:
Varanasi, India, 1996.
I still remember very clearly when I was standing at the train station in one of the most fascinating places in the world, waiting for my train.
Chaos surrounded me when a young Argentine man introduced himself as Alex and showed me the same train ticket for the sleeper car as I had. We hit it off immediately and continued our journey together from then on.
India challenged both of us tremendously, and the many highs and lows we experienced together brought us closer.
Alex and I became the best of friends and had three incredible months together. When our paths eventually parted, we said goodbye with heavy hearts, saying, “We’ll see each other again someday.”
Since I entered Argentina, my greatest wish has been to find Alex. We haven’t seen each other in almost 30 years, and so I hope to find him alive.
We lost all contact. He’s nowhere to be found online. The only thing I know about him is the address of his parents’ house, because he had told it to me so often, that I still remember it by heart after almost 30 years.
Junín de los Andes, Argentina, December 2023
I see an older man working in the garden. The address of the house is the one Alex told me about back then.
I introduce myself with Heike, and I immediately see a smile in the man’s eyes. When I mention that I traveled with Alex in India, the man nearly throws himself around my neck and calls to his wife:
“Heike is here!” and Alex’s mother is beside herself, calling me into the house.
“Alex lives 500 kilometers north, you’re lucky, he’s coming to visit in two days. Just come back on Friday, or are you hungry? I’m cooking, you’re welcome to join us for dinner.”
“Please don’t tell him I’m here, I want to surprise him.”
On Friday, we sit together in the kitchen, when Alex and his wife Claudia come into the house.
Alex sees me and screams, “Heike! I can’t believe it!” And we hug each other!
“Your parents knew right away who I am,” I tell him, and he says, “Of course, do you know how much I’ve talked about you? Everyone knows your name and our shared experiences. You’re the best travel companion I ever had. It’s so great that you’re here visiting us.”
“And the same goes for you,” I reply.
We have a wonderful weekend together. His father grills Asado for us, and his mother bakes delicious pizza.
For both of us, it’s an important reunion.
It’s just before Christmas, and I decide to spend the holiday season in a remote location.
Away from social media and obligations. With no mobile network, I pitch my tent directly at Lake Lolog.
Alex had given me the tip, and the location could not be more perfect. The ideal spot to celebrate Christmas.
It’s windy and cold. Butch and I collect firewood for our Christmas Eve campfire.
I’ve been used to spending Christmas alone for many years, but it still isn’t easy for me. So, I’m glad when Christmas Eve is soon over, and I’m excited when I meet a couple the next day, who sit down with us at the lakeside.
Jasmin is German and is married to Coco, an Argentine. I couldn’t have found a better match. They’re both great, and we talk, philosophize, and fish.
I’ve been dreaming of fly fishing for a long time, and I’m more than happy that Coco explains to me how it works—or let’s say, how it should work theoretically.
Fly fishing, as one might expect, came from the USA to Patagonia because the conditions here are the same as in North America.
Jasmin has a particularly warm personality, and Coco adores her. They make a great couple, and we have a fantastic evening. Since it was so nice, we agree to meet again the next evening for an Asado.
They show up as promised around noon and bring everything imaginable for the barbecue. It’s probably one of the best Christmas celebrations I’ve ever had.
The location and the conversations are simply top-notch. I’m so grateful to them for such a beautiful time.
Nearby, an Argentine is fishing with a can. Can fishing is illegal because the hooks used injure the fish too much, and you can’t release them back into the lake if you catch the wrong one—it won’t survive.
Still, the guy looks super cool, and I can’t resist photographing him. Just like Coco, with his beret.
Butch and I are having tea in a café when an Argentine approaches me and speaks to me in good English.
Eduardo is married to Marion, a Dutch woman, and runs a guesthouse nearby, called La Holandesa.
We become friends, and they let us camp on their property. Not just once—twice, in fact—and each time we are welcomed with big smiles. We cook together, chat, visit their friends, or go shopping in town. In short, we reconnect with people.
Marion listens to Dutch news every morning, and Eduardo shares many anecdotes about Argentina. The atmosphere at their place is international, not very South American. As usual, Argentina feels quite European.
On the road again, we meet a Chilean cyclist who sets up his tent in the same spot as us. A nice evening—although we barely speak, we still somehow feel connected, as he, too, is living the outdoor life.
I want to see penguins, so we drive the long way to the Atlantic coast and struggle with the wind like never before. The Pampa surrounds us. The world-famous Pampa, which not many people personally know but always mention in conversation.
And yes, the Pampa is exactly what we imagine. At the end of the world!
The drive there is impressive because, of course, I don’t take the direct route but instead meander through canyons and ravines as I slowly make my way toward the Atlantic. Magnificent landscapes and no people in sight. Simply amazing.
The area around the penguins, however, doesn’t appeal to me much. The people are different. The wind blows like crazy, and I don’t feel particularly comfortable here.
But then I meet two incredibly friendly French people, Marilou and Sylvain, and camp right next to them by their bus so that Butch and I can sleep a bit out of the wind. It didn’t help much, as the wind is brutal, but it’s better than having no wind protection at all.
Unfortunately, I lose my jacket while setting up the tent. It’s caught by the wind and is gone for good.
Back in the Andes, we meet Andrea and Mike, who kindly bring me my debit card from Germany, as mine expired at the end of December.
The two of them have been traveling for years in their huge Mercedes van, and a few weeks ago, I spent an evening with them by a river, exchanging stories from the road.
So, I’m really relieved that they visited home, brought my card, and also took the time to meet up with me again.
Unfortunately, my visa is up, and my anxiety grows as I realize I have to go back to Chile. Argentina has been incredible, both the people and the landscapes, and I really don’t feel like dealing with Chileans, but there’s no way around it—I have to leave the country.
To make it short: Once again, I face nothing but difficulties. I actually want to leave for Argentina immediately, but I’m not allowed to because, of course, I don’t have some document I supposedly need.
This time, I get absolutely nowhere and have to turn back at the border, accepting that I need to figure out a way to re-enter Argentina. I start to entertain the idea of leaving South America altogether.
I really don’t feel like driving all the way back north to get to Bolivia. It’s too far and too boring for me.
The Tuk-Tuk is fun, and for long stretches, it makes sense to have a motor, but it’s just too easy, too unadventurous, and ultimately too dull. You just sit in a vehicle and go from viewpoint to viewpoint.
Yes, it’s all nice and pleasant, but I believe anyone who’s earned every kilometer under their own steam will ultimately be unhappy with a motor.
On the way to Talca, we camp in an eucalyptus forest. At 1 AM, a car pulls up, and a few guys get out. Flashlights sweep through the forest, and the light hits the Tuk-Tuk.
Soon after, I hear a shot, and then another. I press myself as flat as I can against my sleeping mat. Butch jumps at the first shot and, surely sensing my fear, stays calm and doesn’t move on the mat, which makes a lot of noise when we shift on it.
The next shots ring out, and I nearly wet myself from fear. I keep hearing male voices, fortunately moving further away from us. The shots grow quieter, and eventually, all goes silent. They didn’t spot us. I have no idea what they were after or who or what they were shooting at.
All I know is, I don’t sleep a wink all night, and when dawn breaks, we pack up quickly and head out.
Pancho, a friend from Santiago de Chile, where I spent a month living in a shared apartment, offers to sell the Tuk-Tuk for me.
While I’m staying in an AirBnB in Talca, preparing for my departure, my Chilean stay ends with a visit from the police because the AirBnB owners try to scam me and demand ridiculous amounts of money for the room.
When Pancho drives us to the airport, I don’t feel it’s a mistake to leave the continent. I really just want to go home, and above all, I want to get out of Chile as quickly as possible.
A good time comes to an end, and a new one will begin, but this time, it will be very different—and I’m really looking forward to it.
Nope, we are not settling down 🙂
If anyone is interested in buying a Tuk-Tuk, it’s for sale in Talca/Chile.
Goodbye, South America.
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We are therefore very happy if you follow and appreciate our adventures.
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BIG THANK YOU
This way
THANK YOU
Heike, made my day to see you had (finally) let the world know you were still alive!!! But, I have to say it was worth the wait.
Having followed you, I know South America could have treated you better, at the same time I know my heart would have soared to have camped in your camp spots, and experienced your encounters along the road.
Loved the moment you took us back to India, what a joy it must have been for you to catch up with Alex, and so cool his parents and wife were part of the treat.
Wishing you a great start to whatever and where ever your next plan takes you, and your beautiful boy.
RB