The adventure town of Bariloche is known for it’s pristine views and outdoorsy visitors. We looked up a beautiful bike ride to do in the morning. The ride would take us all around the lakes in Bariloche. Nevermind that none of us hadn’t ridden bikes in, oh, about 6 months. Nevermind that instead of ~15 miles as advertised, the ride turned out to be TWENTY MILES OVER HILLS. Oh, and nevermind that in our group we had: (1) guy in ketosis who loved adventure stuff (DOUG!), (1) guy who couldn’t take normal poops because of a severe lack of fiber (ME), and (1) guy with a very bony butt (KENNY).
The circuito chico was a beautiful exercise in agony. We’d bike up rolling hills, and zoom down the other side while screaming war cries at the top of our lungs. We came across a little secret cove by following a path through the woods. We saw sights that weren’t meant for the world of men (seriously, there was a dude walking his CAT on a leash in the middle of the forest. WTF?). Bariloche is unmatched beauty.
And then we were only half way. Every part of my body was sore. I was complaining because I have a bubble butt, but then I realized Kenny’s bony ass must be even MORE sore. Somehow we limped to the Swiss village on the map. We found restaurant and ordered (3) large pizzas, some fondue, another pizza, and some more dessert.
Then we realized we still had 1/4 of the way to go…. combine that with getting lost and taking some anti-detours, and you get three dumb, sore, awe-inspired Americans.
We ended up missing the cutoff time to return out bikes and caused a scare. The bike rental dude called our hostel to inquire about the stupid Americans. I’m sure he was glad that we weren’t dead tho.