Wild country with someone that understands it.
Northern Patagonia with Forest Barkdoll-Weil.
Wild country with someone that understands it.
Northern Patagonia with Forest Barkdoll-Weil.
I shoot for a living, mostly in places that are hard to reach. Storms, dark skies, mountains at the hour when the light does something it will not do again. I grew up on the coast of Maine, climbed my first real peak at six, and I have spent the years since learning where to stand and when to wait.
Last April I went deep into the Fitz Roy country in the far south, backpacking for days to be in the valley at the right moment. This trip is the other kind of Patagonia. We start in the north, near Bariloche, on the Rio Manso. Four nights in a camp on the river, where the water is loud enough that you stop reaching for your phone, partly because there is no signal to reach for. Rafting, a day on the bikes, and nights with no town for a hundred kilometres, just the sky doing its thing.
When it is time to leave the river, we do not just drive out. A helicopter takes us up over the mountains, sets down high for a hike you could not reach on foot, and comes down at last to a grand old place on the lake. The water goes still, the days go slow, and you stop counting them.
This is not a workshop. I will have my cameras out, and if you want to know how I read a place I am happy to get into it, around the fire, on the water, wherever it comes up. But you are here for Patagonia, not for a classroom. I am along because I love this, and I am decent company on a river.
"Manso" means tame, which is the river's private joke. It comes off the black glacier on Cerro Tronador as meltwater, runs a hard turquoise through twelve kilometres of canyon, Class III and IV, between white-sand beaches and waterfalls that drop straight into it, and does not slow down until Chile.
The valley is the southern edge of Nahuel Huapi, which Argentina made its first national park in 1934, before most countries had thought to. Forest of coihue and cypress and the red-barked arrayán, peaks still holding snow in February, and a night sky with nothing under it for a hundred kilometres in any direction.
Most of Patagonia's fame belongs to the far south, the towers and the postcard peaks. This is the north, the Lake District, and it asks something different of you.
The order is the whole design. The first five nights are the river. Cold mornings, moving water, a helicopter out over the mountains at the end of it. Active and unreachable, awake before anyone else. Then two slow days by the lake, which feel the way they do only because of the contrast. It's earned. That is not a logistics decision. It's the trip.
Most of what you'll remember, you won't be able to photograph.
Loud water first. Still water after.
A private transfer south from Bariloche airport with your guide, past the strung-together lakes of Gutierrez, Mascardi and Guillelmo. A soft hike into native forest to walk the travel out of your legs, then time with the John family, settlers who have worked this valley for generations. By evening you are at the camp, on the riverbank, for the first of five nights.
A full day rafting the Manso with specialist guides, down through the canyons to the marker where Argentina becomes Chile. Turquoise water, real rapids, calm pools between them to get your breath back. Back to camp with the river still in your ears.
A full day on the valley trails by mountain bike, with e-bike support so the climbs are a choice and not a sentence. After dark, the night has its own event: stargazing, with no town for a hundred kilometres to wash it out. The Milky Way comes up over Cerro Bastion and you stop talking for a while.
A day out with Forest and the cameras, on foot into country the wheels and the water do not reach. Out early, back late, moving at the pace the light asks for rather than the clock. You do not need a camera to come. You need to not mind waiting for the moment worth photographing.
The way out is up. A helicopter lifts off the valley floor, crosses the peaks, and sets down high for a hike you could reach no other way, then carries on to the lake. You leave the river behind in an hour that most people would fly a long way just to have on its own.
Kayaking on the lake. A wine lunch by the water. An afternoon with nothing in it. Then the last dinner, the kind where the plates are cleared and nobody stands up to go.
Eight to twelve people who read "remote" and "active" as the reason to come, not the reason to hesitate. The kind who would rather do one thing properly than tick off ten.
You arrive not knowing each other. Four nights sharing a river, a fire and a phone signal that barely works does something a hotel lobby never will. By the time the trip ends, you are a group, and the last dinner proves it.
Forest brings the eye. We handle everything else.
You see a week that simply works. Behind it: a Swiss company that designs high-end journeys most people never find. This is one of them.
It is all arranged. The camp, the hotel, every transfer, every guide, every meal. Out here that is not convenience, it is what lets you be fully present for what you came for.
This is one week of what we do. Come earlier, stay longer, or let us build something entirely your own, here or anywhere else worth going. The trip is fixed. The rest is open.
Our travellers consistently rate us five stars. Read what they say.
We've travelled a lot, but this one felt different.— Maximilian R.
Almost everything, from the moment you land in Bariloche. Private transfers throughout, five nights at the river camp and two by the lake, every meal and the drinks alongside. The days are all in: the hikes, the settler-family visit, a full day rafting the Manso, a full day on the bikes, the night under the stars, a day on foot with the cameras, and the helicopter over the mountains with a heli-hike on the way to the lake. Then the kayaks and the long last lunch. And Forest, the whole way.
Your flights to Bariloche, tips, visa, and travel insurance.
This trip is for people who want to go deeper, not just visit, and who are good company over the long days that come with that.
We read every application ourselves, and reply to each one personally.
Still have a question? A few practical answers just below.
Applying isn't paying, and it isn't a commitment you can't step back from. When you apply, you're requesting a place while we confirm details together, it's the start of a conversation, not the final step. A deposit is what secures your participation; nothing is binding before that.
We'll be in touch personally to go through the details, dates, room arrangements, anything specific to you, before anything is confirmed. Once you're ready, a deposit secures your place. Everything from there, documents, logistics, the finer points, we handle with you directly.
We'd rather you knew this upfront than discovered it later: deposits are non-refundable once paid, reflecting the commitments we make to the camp, the hotel and the guides on your behalf. But you're not necessarily stuck. If someone can take your place, and both we and Forest are happy with the fit, we'll do what we can to arrange the transfer. We also strongly recommend travel insurance, which covers you for the situations we can't.
This is the one to feel secure about: if a trip doesn't go ahead, you receive a full refund. That risk sits with us, not you.
Two places, deliberately. Five nights at a camp on the Rio Manso, furnished tents with proper beds and hot water, a lounge tent over the river for meals, and not much else for a long way in any direction. Then two nights at a grand old hotel on the lake. The remoteness of the first is the point, not something we apologise for. The comfort of the second is not really the point at all, which is what makes it land.
Yes. Every meal and the drinks alongside, at the camp and the hotel. The one deliberate gap is a free afternoon in Bariloche town, where you may want to find your own table.
Yes. Tell us when you apply and we'll plan accordingly.
Active, not extreme. A full day rafting, a full day riding with e-bike support, hiking, kayaking on the lake. You should be in good health and comfortable on your feet and on the water. Nothing is compulsory, and the second half is built to rest. This is refined and active, not an endurance expedition.
No. There are no scheduled lessons or sessions, no workshop. Forest is here as the draw and as good company. He will have his cameras out, and if you want to geek-out over equipment or know how he reads the light on the river or the sky over Bastion, he is glad to get into it. What you get is proximity to how someone sees, not a syllabus.
The nearest town is hours behind you. The river is the loudest thing when you're asleep and the stars the brightest. You are not roughing it, the beds and the hot water are real, but you are genuinely out there, and that is the half of the trip you will talk about most.
Because the contrast is the trip. Five nights earning it on the river, two nights being rewarded for it on the lake. Each one makes the other land harder. Do them in this order and the week works.
Still have a question? Write to us at info@theoccasionist.ch.