Into the Lakes
From Bajo Caracoles, the route swings west onto the RP 39 — a gravel road that descends from the meseta toward the Andean foothills, the tarmac giving way to packed earth as the landscape shifts register. The steppe opens, then begins to fold and colour: reddish cañadones cut the plateau, and the Andes appear on the western horizon, white-capped and close enough to seem reachable. The road threads through canyon country before the terrain drops away and the first glimpse of something extraordinary appears — two bodies of water lying side by side, one turquoise, one deep blue, pressing against a narrow strip of land between them.
The village of Lago Posadas (officially Hipólito Yrigoyen) comes first, a few hundred people clustered at the edge of the turquoise lake: a handful of stores, a police post, a fuel station. It grew from the convergence of rural families from the surrounding estancias — a meeting point for a scattered population — and today offers just enough to be useful. From here the road continues along the lakeshore to the Arco de Piedra, a natural stone arch rising roughly 15 metres above the surface of Lago Posadas. It is reached by a short track down to the water's edge and is best seen from the shore: a geological anomaly in an already improbable landscape, lifted and carved from the same forces that shaped the surrounding basin, its reflection in the still water on a calm afternoon quietly surreal.
Beyond the arch, the road reaches the isthmus — barely 200 metres of earth separating the two lakes, one turquoise, one a deeper, windier blue. Crossing it is one of the stranger moments of the day: a few seconds in which both lakes are visible simultaneously, each pulling the eye in a different direction, both backed by the mass of Cerro San Lorenzo (3,706 m / 12,159 ft), the highest peak in the province of Santa Cruz, its upper flanks permanently under snow.
Arrival: Lago Pueyrredón
Refugio Lago Pueyrredón sits on the far shore of Pueyrredón, with cabañas and bungalows looking directly out over the water. The setting is as raw as it sounds: no cellular signal, wind that arrives without warning, and at sunset, if the sky cooperates, an orange light across the lake that no photograph quite captures. The evening options are simple — the refugio has a restaurant, and the lake has fish. Tomorrow the road continues west into Chile.