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I remember, as if it were yesterday, walking alone at the bottom of the Río Pinturas Canyon, in the heart of a landscape straight out of the greatest Westerns. We are in the province of Santa Cruz.
Twenty-five years have passed since I first discovered this region, on the shores of the largest lakes in Argentina and Chile, Lago Buenos Aires and Lago General Carrera. At the time, I had traveled a large part of Route 40 in Argentina, from San Martín de los Andes to the far south of Patagonia, and one of the images that left the deepest impression on me was that of these cave paintings depicting hands.
Yes, time really does fly! Over the years, I’ve traveled extensively, exploring countless trails, volcanoes, rivers, and cultural sites, not only on the American continent, of course, but all over the world whenever I had the chance.
I was a little anxious, because reaching this part of Patagonia is no easy feat. You don’t end up here by chance; it’s not just a stop along the way. You have to set out on the journey, truly want it, prepare for it, be driven by genuine curiosity… but also accept solitude, seek to find yourself… not so simple. No imagination can truly do justice to what nature has shaped here.
I’ve often found that when you discover a place for the first time, without any particular expectations, and it instantly captures your heart, seeing it again some time later can sometimes be disappointing. That’s probably why I often avoid returning to places where I’ve had a deeply memorable experience. I prefer to keep the memory intact, hold onto the emotion of the moment, and simply remember…
On Route 40, as I made my way toward the small town of Perito Moreno, I found myself thinking about all of this. After all this time, the place had surely changed… for the better? For the worse? I carried with me such a powerful memory that I hoped I wouldn’t regret what I was about to discover there today.
From San Carlos de Bariloche to Esquel, I know the road by heart. I travel it often, and I know intimately all the little towns that line Route 40: El Bolsón, a timeless refuge for some; El Hoyo and its bountiful valleys; Epuyén and its lake; El Maitén and La Trochita; Gualjaina and the Piedra Parada; Cholila and its tales of bandits… and finally, Esquel.
Heading to the Far South
South of Esquel, you truly enter the mythical Patagonia, the one you imagine before you go. Few travelers venture into the Deep South of Patagonia, simply because there isn’t much nearby: the distances stretch out, landmarks become scarce, and little by little you get the feeling you’ve reached the end of the world.
In a word, I would say it is the vastness that stretches out before me, and the near-emptiness. No cars, no towns, no buildings, barely a few signs: just the steppe stretching as far as the eye can see, and in the distance the Cordillera, like a silent reminder that beyond it lies another country, Chile.
Sometimes a no-passing sign suddenly appears, standing there in the middle of nowhere, even though there’s no one on the road and you can see for miles. And of course, even in the middle of nowhere, another sign serves as a reminder that the Falkland Islands are – and always will be – Argentine.
So I head deeper into the Far South, where the vast emptiness gives way to guanacos and ñandús, whose numbers seem to grow as the miles go by. The day progresses, and the light grows even more beautiful, casting low-angled hues that remind me of my status as a mere free spirit moving through unspoiled territory, a land infinitely vaster than France. The hours pass; I move forward, I venture deeper. I must avoid the many “pozos” (holes), and, little by little, a sense of absolute freedom and joy washes over me.
Finally, as if out of nowhere, I spot in the distance the first buildings of the town of Perito Moreno, where I plan to rest and stop for a while. I quickly realize that I’m the only guest at my hotel, and probably the only tourist in town. It’s true that it’s off-season, but still… I also realize very quickly that little has changed here, and that’s just as well. At the end of the world, everything seems to move more slowly than elsewhere.
I’ve come all this way to complete a grand loop. I’ll also be stopping in Chile, where several remote, timeless sites await me, some to discover for the first time, others to revisit. The town of Perito Moreno will serve as both my starting point and my destination.
Cueva de las Manos
Throughout this journey, I will be accompanied by a local guide, Facundo, who knows every nook and cranny of the region like the back of his hand and, most importantly, has the necessary permits to cross the estancias and private lands.
So I’m heading to Cueva de las Manos, the famous “Cave of Hands”. But before getting there, I was eager to explore Patagonia National Park, which didn’t exist the last time I was here.
I’ll have the chance to be alone in the park for three days, as it closes on April 30 and will therefore already be closed to the public. This park exists thanks to Rewilding Argentina – an offshoot of the Rewilding movement – whose mission is to protect endangered species and to preserve, and even restore, natural ecosystems to a fully functional state.
I’m amazed by the number of guanacos. It’s true that I chose this time of year to observe their migration: they leave the high plateaus – the snow-covered mesetas – to head for the arid, sun-drenched plains where I am.
So I decided to make my way through “Patagonia National Park” to the Río Pinturas Canyon and its famous hand-print caves. After a hike that took me to the edge of the cliffs, I couldn’t help but admire the landscape and understand why the first people had chosen this place to settle and travel through these canyons, which I now looked down upon from above.
The surrounding landscape is marked by spectacular cliffs and sweeping vistas. I finally reach the end of the promontory and am greeted by a striking sight: right in front of me, far below, the caves come into view. They seem so small compared to the sheer height and grandeur of the cliffs, and the vastness of the canyon. I also realize that, from these cavities, these people occupied an ideal vantage point over the entire region, while remaining perfectly concealed and protected.
From where I am standing, I walk down to the bottom of the canyon, cross the river, and then climb back up the other side to reach the entrance to the site. I walk this path, probably in much the same way as the tribes who lived here did nearly 10,000 years ago.
Cueva de las Manos takes its name from the hundreds of handprints that adorn its walls. These works, created by the region’s indigenous peoples between 13,000 and 9,000 years ago, make this one of Argentina’s most important archaeological sites.
Designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999, the cave paintings provide invaluable insights into the lives of the early people who thrived in this rugged and breathtaking landscape. The detailed depictions of animals, hunting scenes, and symbols are exceptional testimonies to that distant era. The handprints are the site’s most iconic feature. The “artists” of that era blew pigments through hollow bones or reeds to create negative impressions of their hands on the rock walls.
In addition to these figures, the walls of Cueva de las Manos also depict scenes of guanaco hunts, as guanacos were one of the main food sources for the ancient inhabitants of southern Patagonia. Abstract symbols and geometric patterns add another layer of mystery, suggesting the existence of spiritual or ceremonial practices.
I was particularly moved by these paintings, which seem almost unreal due to their naivety when viewed from our perspective today, but also because of their exceptional state of preservation, which might lead one to believe they were painted just yesterday… These people truly lived as brothers and sisters and, I am convinced, possessed a deep sense of community and mutual support. It’s quite easy to imagine their lives in such a breathtaking setting.
I couldn’t help but think of the contrast with other people, those from the early 19th century: Argentines and Chileans in search of territory, seeking to push back the frontiers and assert their sovereignty by naming the many lakes of Patagonia after the great figures of their respective nations. They couldn’t even agree on a common name for these lakes that cross the Andes, which still bear two different names today even though they are one and the same body of water.
Voltaire must have sensed this when he wrote: “May all people remember that they are brothers and sisters.”
The Quest for the Puma
After spending three days exploring the park and its surroundings, I set out in search of the Puma, for in such landscapes, it is truly the master of the realm. I was accompanied by a guide whose job was to track the animal, follow its tracks, and locate the den where it might be resting.
The Grand Canyon known as “Caracoles” is our destination for the day. Here, it is the absolute tranquility that strikes me. Being able to listen to the silence, with only the flight of several condors as a backdrop, has something deeply magical about it.
After hours of tracking, we finally caught a glimpse of “Pepito”. Bad luck for me: Pepito isn’t the kind of puma that lets you get close. Very wary, he showed himself from a distance before disappearing almost immediately. He had probably taken refuge in a cave somewhere below, out of our reach.
Over the next few days, I’ll set out to explore geological wonders in regions completely untouched by humans. As if drawn by the snow-capped peaks of the Andes, we’ll discover Lago Posadas, Lago Pueyrredón, and Lago Cochrane, which are actually all part of a single lake.
These landscapes will leave me with a real sense of being at the end of the world. I invite you to take a look at a map, on Google Maps , for example, and you’ll immediately notice the extremely low – if not virtually nonexistent – population density in what is, after all, a vast territory.
Along the way, I was able to admire the stone arch, Puma Cave, and the Río Loro Gorge; gaze upon Monte San Lorenzo, which marks the boundary of Perito Moreno National Park; visit a few estancias still situated in strategic locations to best harness the elements, in places where even gauchos are few and far between; travel along the legendary Route 41 – undoubtedly the most beautiful road in the South – and cross a timeless border: the Paso Roballos Pass.
The crossing to Chile
I then had the chance to traverse the entire Patagonia National Park on the Chilean side, travel alongside one of the most beautiful rivers in all of Patagonia, the Río Baker, and then follow the shores of a vast lake, akin to an inland sea: Lago Buenos Aires, known as Lago General Carrera in Chile.
I’ll eventually board a boat to visit the famous marble formations that resemble cathedrals, chapels, and caves: the Marble Cathedral, a true gem of the Carretera Austral.
I find myself in the heart of Route 7, better known as the Austral Route, which connects Puerto Montt to Villa O’Higgins. Nearly 1,200 kilometers of road packed with almost surreal landscapes: a succession of Andean volcanoes, fjords, narrow channels, lakes, glaciers, steep peaks, and dense forests.
I am now on my way back, carrying with me the feeling of having traveled through lands where what appears to be emptiness is, in reality, part of a greater whole. A powerful sense of having touched upon something essential, of having traversed territories still so untouched by human hands. It is only here that I truly felt that nature is a form of Art.
The earliest people were certainly not mistaken: it is certainly no coincidence that they chose to live and travel in this enchanting region.
One thing is for sure: I’ll be back!