No the weather did not cooperate next morning. Those who had made loud promises the previous night were found lounging around in the dining hall next morning. No one had gone anywhere. The rain was invincible. It was time for us to move on. We had reservations at the next refugio which was a good six hour hike. No sight of the Torres for us this morning either.
The hike started out wet but thankfully downhill this time. There were no trail markings and we had to pretty much tread along the path most travelled. This worked fine until we hit the first of several streams or mini rivers that we had to cross with great caution. The trails seemed to disappear completely around these streams and we even went off track a couple of times. We were hiking in complete wilderness with no one in sight for a few hours. It was magical.
The rains had cleared quite a bit by now and the sun started to tease us. The vegetation was glowing green and the streams were gushing. We were soon rewarded with the view of lake Nordenskjold (we still haven´t figured out how to pronounce this, so don´t stress). The rest of our hike hemmed around the blue waters of this lake backed by tall peaks playing hide and seek behind the clouds.
Five hours and a picnic lunch later, we caught the first glimpse of the Cuernos (horns). The peaks were still shielded by the clouds but there was a promise in the air. The refugio Los Cuernos was situated at the foot of the cuernos and the banks of the lake Nordenskjold.
We spent the rest of the evening walking by the lake and waiting for the grand unveiling of the Cuernos. On a side note, taking our own food to the park was well worth the effort. Fellow travellers were complaining about the high prices and inadequate quantities of food rationed out to them.
We woke up at the crack of dawn next morning to catch the virgin rays of the sun on the Cuernos. Our hike was six hours long this morning and we had to make it to the ferry docks by afternoon. The hike started off along the rocky shores of the lake and meandered into the thick lenga forests. This was a mean hike for this early in the morning. As the day progressed we got spectacular views of the peaks and glaciers around us.
Six hours later just as you would think the panorama could not get better, we were astounded by the emerald green waters of Lake Pehoe. It seemed like a canvas - so unreal. We caught a ferry from the docks here across to the transfer point where the buses would pick us up.
The ferry ride was the icing on the cake. The peaks, waters, glaciers, all of nature in its glory against clear blue skies. This was the reason we were here. How could we say goodbye without a glimpse of the Torres? They peeked out to say hasta luego as we turned back to catch a last view of the park from the bus.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Torres del Paine National Park, Chile
Known as the mecca for trekkers, Torres is the crown jewel of our trip. This park is worth its distance in gold.
Located in the heart of Chilean Patagonia, access to this park is extremely limited. A three hour bumpy bus ride later, we were greeted by herds of Guanacos at the park entrance. After paying the hefty entrance fees, we were dropped off at the transfer point from where a shuttle would ferry us to the Las Torres base camp.
Because the park was still partially closed due to the fires, the shuttles were taking an alternate route. Trekkers in Torres can choose to do a shorter four day ¨W´´ or a longer seven day Circuit hike (connecting the two ends of the ¨W´´ in a loop). When in America, we aimed for the Circuit. By the time we made it to the park, it was no longer an option. And we ended up doing an even shorter version of the ¨W´´. The last portion of the ¨W´´ is a hike that takes you up to Glacier Grey. Since we´d already dabbled in our share of glaciers, we decided to focus on the Torres (towers) and Cuernos (horns) of Paine. Our three days were split across the two refugios that provided closest access to both of these.
The park bus transfer point started filling up with backpackers from around the world. We were guaging and comparing the weights of all backpacks and assessing each one´s contents during the wait. The lighter ones were surely not carrying food. And just how were those people planning to carry tents, utensils, and all that load? There were all sorts of people with all kinds of luggage. The park bus came around with a special baggage carrier in tow. All the backpacks were stowed away and more money was collected from those who had no reservations at the refugios. The only negative about this park is how much they charge at the pretext of remoteness. We forgot about all this money business as soon as we caught our first glimpse of the Torres. Only partially though. The sky looked cloudy with only some parts of the towers in view. Imposing masses of three gigantic rocks presiding over the landscape. Very rugged and unforgiving. This was nature´s own sculpture in the middle of nowhere.
We were about to climb up and get a full view. Our first day´s itininerary involved a relentless upward climb for 6 hours. Refugio Chileno was four hours away from Torres base camp where the park shuttle deposited us with our backpacks. Right before we started the hike at 10am, we ran into an Irish couple who had boarded in the same b&b in Ushuaia. They were just finishing their five day stint and looked exhausted beyond words. They´d been camping all along and had become worshippers of the park. We waved them goodbye, strapped on the bags, and got on our way.
It was a gorgeous balmy day with light sun and winds. Only the caprices of the weather in Torres are worse than Donald Trump´s boardroom gimmicks. Not that we were unprepared, having heard all sorts of horror stories. It wasn´t looking bad at all except that the wind was against us. As usual there were no marked trails or signs anywhere.
Two hours into the hike and the weather Gods started sprinkling us with a light drizzle. Nagesh was wearing his parka but Kavita didn´t really care to stop and fish hers out. Ten minutes later, we were stopped on the side drenched from head to toe struggling to pull out our parkas and ponchos. The winds were lashing against us mercilessly. All the elements were in their ugliest moods and this was just the beginning. Layered up with ponchos that covered our backpacks, we abandoned all hopes of a picnic lunch in the picturesque settings. All we could see through the rain curtain was a grey cover. The hike was getting steeper and the trails we regurgitating slush. We started singing Om Jai Jagdish Hare at the top of our lungs followed by Hum Honge Kamiyab (we shall be successful one day). The Gods heard us alright! We could finally see the refugio at a distance. A log cabin nestled between a valley on the banks of a gushing river - but we were too tired to appreciate any of that.
We stumbled wet and cold into a refugio packed like sardines. Shoes and backpacks had to be left on the patio where there was no place to even stand. The main doors opened into a sitting area with long wooden tables and chairs. Not one chair to be found. We checked in and were shown to our dorm room with eight bunk beds. Kavita refused to sleep on anything higher than the first bunk bed.
We took off our wet jackets and headed to the lunch room. Food never tasted better and the warmth was so welcome. People were huddled around the wood burning furnaces. The smell of damp clothes and socks hung thick in the air and the furnaces were being used to dry everything.
We just sat there and waited for the rains to abate to make our way up to the towers. It wasn´t meant to be. The rains kept coming down harder and harder. A few brave souls decided to charge ahead only to return disappointed. The towers had gone into hiding with rain turning to snow at the heights.
We were jinxed but strangely not upset. It was like a bonus day to relax at this cozy lodge and write our blog. In a few hours we knew everyone in the refugio including the campers sheltered in there. Nagesh and I spent hours commenting on everyone. During dinner, we met Guido, our dutch friend who offered us a game of dice for dessert. Soon we had gathered an eclectic mix of campers at our table shouting over the exciting rounds of The Mexican. We hadn´t realized how many games could be invented with a bunch of dice and they´re so portable.
People shouted promises to wake up at 3am and head up for a sunrise view. Nagesh and I shook our heads and decided to take things as they come. We were having a great time as it was. Quiet hours commenced at10pm and we cuddled happily into our sleeping bags. Except, somewhere in the middle of the night Nagesh´s bed turned out broken and he snuggled in with Kavita. Howz that for an excuse!
Located in the heart of Chilean Patagonia, access to this park is extremely limited. A three hour bumpy bus ride later, we were greeted by herds of Guanacos at the park entrance. After paying the hefty entrance fees, we were dropped off at the transfer point from where a shuttle would ferry us to the Las Torres base camp.
Because the park was still partially closed due to the fires, the shuttles were taking an alternate route. Trekkers in Torres can choose to do a shorter four day ¨W´´ or a longer seven day Circuit hike (connecting the two ends of the ¨W´´ in a loop). When in America, we aimed for the Circuit. By the time we made it to the park, it was no longer an option. And we ended up doing an even shorter version of the ¨W´´. The last portion of the ¨W´´ is a hike that takes you up to Glacier Grey. Since we´d already dabbled in our share of glaciers, we decided to focus on the Torres (towers) and Cuernos (horns) of Paine. Our three days were split across the two refugios that provided closest access to both of these.
The park bus transfer point started filling up with backpackers from around the world. We were guaging and comparing the weights of all backpacks and assessing each one´s contents during the wait. The lighter ones were surely not carrying food. And just how were those people planning to carry tents, utensils, and all that load? There were all sorts of people with all kinds of luggage. The park bus came around with a special baggage carrier in tow. All the backpacks were stowed away and more money was collected from those who had no reservations at the refugios. The only negative about this park is how much they charge at the pretext of remoteness. We forgot about all this money business as soon as we caught our first glimpse of the Torres. Only partially though. The sky looked cloudy with only some parts of the towers in view. Imposing masses of three gigantic rocks presiding over the landscape. Very rugged and unforgiving. This was nature´s own sculpture in the middle of nowhere.
We were about to climb up and get a full view. Our first day´s itininerary involved a relentless upward climb for 6 hours. Refugio Chileno was four hours away from Torres base camp where the park shuttle deposited us with our backpacks. Right before we started the hike at 10am, we ran into an Irish couple who had boarded in the same b&b in Ushuaia. They were just finishing their five day stint and looked exhausted beyond words. They´d been camping all along and had become worshippers of the park. We waved them goodbye, strapped on the bags, and got on our way.
It was a gorgeous balmy day with light sun and winds. Only the caprices of the weather in Torres are worse than Donald Trump´s boardroom gimmicks. Not that we were unprepared, having heard all sorts of horror stories. It wasn´t looking bad at all except that the wind was against us. As usual there were no marked trails or signs anywhere.
Two hours into the hike and the weather Gods started sprinkling us with a light drizzle. Nagesh was wearing his parka but Kavita didn´t really care to stop and fish hers out. Ten minutes later, we were stopped on the side drenched from head to toe struggling to pull out our parkas and ponchos. The winds were lashing against us mercilessly. All the elements were in their ugliest moods and this was just the beginning. Layered up with ponchos that covered our backpacks, we abandoned all hopes of a picnic lunch in the picturesque settings. All we could see through the rain curtain was a grey cover. The hike was getting steeper and the trails we regurgitating slush. We started singing Om Jai Jagdish Hare at the top of our lungs followed by Hum Honge Kamiyab (we shall be successful one day). The Gods heard us alright! We could finally see the refugio at a distance. A log cabin nestled between a valley on the banks of a gushing river - but we were too tired to appreciate any of that.
We stumbled wet and cold into a refugio packed like sardines. Shoes and backpacks had to be left on the patio where there was no place to even stand. The main doors opened into a sitting area with long wooden tables and chairs. Not one chair to be found. We checked in and were shown to our dorm room with eight bunk beds. Kavita refused to sleep on anything higher than the first bunk bed.
We took off our wet jackets and headed to the lunch room. Food never tasted better and the warmth was so welcome. People were huddled around the wood burning furnaces. The smell of damp clothes and socks hung thick in the air and the furnaces were being used to dry everything.
We just sat there and waited for the rains to abate to make our way up to the towers. It wasn´t meant to be. The rains kept coming down harder and harder. A few brave souls decided to charge ahead only to return disappointed. The towers had gone into hiding with rain turning to snow at the heights.
We were jinxed but strangely not upset. It was like a bonus day to relax at this cozy lodge and write our blog. In a few hours we knew everyone in the refugio including the campers sheltered in there. Nagesh and I spent hours commenting on everyone. During dinner, we met Guido, our dutch friend who offered us a game of dice for dessert. Soon we had gathered an eclectic mix of campers at our table shouting over the exciting rounds of The Mexican. We hadn´t realized how many games could be invented with a bunch of dice and they´re so portable.
People shouted promises to wake up at 3am and head up for a sunrise view. Nagesh and I shook our heads and decided to take things as they come. We were having a great time as it was. Quiet hours commenced at10pm and we cuddled happily into our sleeping bags. Except, somewhere in the middle of the night Nagesh´s bed turned out broken and he snuggled in with Kavita. Howz that for an excuse!
Puerto Natales, Chile
The town where we paid US $10 to do a load of laundry. End of blog.
Ok fine, we´ll tell you a little more about the sleepiest town on the planet. It happens to be the only gateway to Torres Del Paine National Park. So we had to spend a night here, in an obnoxious green house of course. Our host was an extremely cordial and informative man who sent us around to the right people for all the right bookings.
Apprehensive as we were, the refugios (hostels along the trekking route with bunk beds) still had room for us for two nights.We were told that food at the park was prohibitively expensive, so the next task was grocery shopping. Too bad the paranthas were over by this time.
Fresh vegetables and fruits are in short supply in Chile, at least south of Puerto Montt. Guess it´s hard to transport things that far after the country disintegrates into fjords and glaciers. Apart from some worm-eaten lettuce, we found tomatoes and cucumbers along with an exotic variety of green chilli (very tasty). We finally got enough food for three days, not a light load coupled with the 6 liters of water we needed to carry. And we had to lug all this on our backs during the hikes. This was not going to be easy.
But we were finally headed for Torres del Paine!
Ok fine, we´ll tell you a little more about the sleepiest town on the planet. It happens to be the only gateway to Torres Del Paine National Park. So we had to spend a night here, in an obnoxious green house of course. Our host was an extremely cordial and informative man who sent us around to the right people for all the right bookings.
Apprehensive as we were, the refugios (hostels along the trekking route with bunk beds) still had room for us for two nights.We were told that food at the park was prohibitively expensive, so the next task was grocery shopping. Too bad the paranthas were over by this time.
Fresh vegetables and fruits are in short supply in Chile, at least south of Puerto Montt. Guess it´s hard to transport things that far after the country disintegrates into fjords and glaciers. Apart from some worm-eaten lettuce, we found tomatoes and cucumbers along with an exotic variety of green chilli (very tasty). We finally got enough food for three days, not a light load coupled with the 6 liters of water we needed to carry. And we had to lug all this on our backs during the hikes. This was not going to be easy.
But we were finally headed for Torres del Paine!
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Dulce de Leche and Superclasico
Dulce de Leche is a milk-based caramel also known as manjar blanco. A blancmange that can last several months when stored in cool shadows of a cellar or the refrigerator for the non-romantics. In the days of yore, a fire of kindling and charcoal was built in the patio. A tripod was set over it that supported an iron kettle. Four cups of milk to one cup of sugar was flavored with two vanilla beans and the peel of a lemon. This mixture was then boiled and stirred for hours after which the sweet or dulce was cooled and stored. Now try this recipe and tell us what it translates into ,-)
Oh boy! All the research you make us do with such slow internet connections. The superclasico is between Boca Juniors and River Plate. Btw, we saw River Plate in action on tv last night. Rival fans call the River Plate gallinas or hens or chicken and the Bocas are lovingly called bosteros or horse-shitters.
None of this is an attempt to prove that we´re not shacked up in a motel in Bakersfield, Ca. But you gotta give us some credit for the superfine photoshop jobs and the imaginative tale spinning :-)
Oh boy! All the research you make us do with such slow internet connections. The superclasico is between Boca Juniors and River Plate. Btw, we saw River Plate in action on tv last night. Rival fans call the River Plate gallinas or hens or chicken and the Bocas are lovingly called bosteros or horse-shitters.
None of this is an attempt to prove that we´re not shacked up in a motel in Bakersfield, Ca. But you gotta give us some credit for the superfine photoshop jobs and the imaginative tale spinning :-)
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Perito Moreno Glacier, El Calafate, Argentina
The trip we took was a little different from those offered by the regular companies. This was a cool, alternate day trip organized by Hostel International. We drove the country side at sunrise stopping to admire the flora and fauna of the region.
This brings us to our second botany lesson. Remember Ecotones? This is a transition zone where the vegetation of two distinct climate zones merge. The town of El Calafate gets its name from the plant of the same name: a short stubby desert bush, almost like a bonsai, that populates most of this area. In the ecotone around the glacier, the desert steppe vegetation of calafate plants intersperse with grassy patches, tall Lenga, and Ñire trees.
During the bus ride, our guide gave us a history lesson about Patagonia and how the vast lands were privately owned by individuals and multinationals. He also pointed out the most exclusive hotel at the park with every room overlooking the glacier. The nightly rate was a whopping US$1000 while the campsite nearby, with the same view, could be yours for US$5.
A two hour ride brought us to the park before the place was swarming with tourist buses. We were left to walk the balconies at leisure. No words can do justice to this glacier, our pictures will do the work. Every so often, a large chunk of ice would come crashing down on the lake with a thunder. The awestruck observers would hold their breath with every gunshot-like sound rendered in the background. This is truly a wondrous sight, the best we´ve ever seen in our lives. This is the money!
Later in the afternoon, we hiked a short distance to the port. An exhilarating catamaran ride took us right in front of the glacier that towered high above our heads, with blue icebergs swimming around us changing colors and shapes every minute. You could take the experience with you in your heart - or in your throat- by sipping a whisky on ¨glacier rocks¨.
This brings us to our second botany lesson. Remember Ecotones? This is a transition zone where the vegetation of two distinct climate zones merge. The town of El Calafate gets its name from the plant of the same name: a short stubby desert bush, almost like a bonsai, that populates most of this area. In the ecotone around the glacier, the desert steppe vegetation of calafate plants intersperse with grassy patches, tall Lenga, and Ñire trees.
During the bus ride, our guide gave us a history lesson about Patagonia and how the vast lands were privately owned by individuals and multinationals. He also pointed out the most exclusive hotel at the park with every room overlooking the glacier. The nightly rate was a whopping US$1000 while the campsite nearby, with the same view, could be yours for US$5.
A two hour ride brought us to the park before the place was swarming with tourist buses. We were left to walk the balconies at leisure. No words can do justice to this glacier, our pictures will do the work. Every so often, a large chunk of ice would come crashing down on the lake with a thunder. The awestruck observers would hold their breath with every gunshot-like sound rendered in the background. This is truly a wondrous sight, the best we´ve ever seen in our lives. This is the money!
Later in the afternoon, we hiked a short distance to the port. An exhilarating catamaran ride took us right in front of the glacier that towered high above our heads, with blue icebergs swimming around us changing colors and shapes every minute. You could take the experience with you in your heart - or in your throat- by sipping a whisky on ¨glacier rocks¨.
Random Thoughts
Talking about buses, they´re the most convenient and popular mode of transportation in South America. But the bus drivers have a mind of their own. There´s no way of knowing when, where, or for how long the bus will stop during a journey. A co-traveller from Australia recounted this incident when her bus stopped for a ten minute break. She returned from the bathroom to find that the bus had left. Stranded in the middle of the boonies, she was ¨shit scared´´ and in a state of utter panic for ten minutes after which the bus coolly returned. The driver had merely taken the bus for a wash.
Shirinne - if you think Indian streets are infested with street dogs, South America is no different. Isabel Allende claims that dogs in Chile have a social consciousness of their own. No Chileans have ever bought a dog, they´re always inherited, adopted, or taken in when they follow a kid home from school. They´re all universally known as ¨Blackie´´. The counterpart for the ubiquitous ¨Tommy¨ in India.
We returned from glacier trip in El Chalten around 11pm. The hostel was a 20 minute walk from the bus station, through streets rife with dogs. Kavita threw the biggest panic fit at the thought of walking through their lair (mom will relate well to this!). Nagesh´s arm was squeezed, his tired head was chewn to bits, and his ears were filled with nervous complaints. We made it back safe realizing that these canine colonies were not hostile at all. It was indeed a social pack minding its own business.
We had finally earned a holiday after that hectic trip. El Calafate was a perfect town to relax with it´s easy lifestyle. Wooden log cabin style shops and buildings added to the vacation ambience. We discovered a lovely coffee shop lined with shelves full of touristy books on Argentina. It was a delicious way to spend the afternoon siesta time when everything in town shuts down. Life sleepily resumes again after 6pm. The waiters are in no hurry at the restaurants, neither to bring the food nor la cuenta (the check). They don´t seem to care about the tip either, or that´s our impression.
The next day, we booked ourselves on a tour to the city most famous attraction : the Perito Moreno glacier at the south end of the Los Glaciares NP.
Shirinne - if you think Indian streets are infested with street dogs, South America is no different. Isabel Allende claims that dogs in Chile have a social consciousness of their own. No Chileans have ever bought a dog, they´re always inherited, adopted, or taken in when they follow a kid home from school. They´re all universally known as ¨Blackie´´. The counterpart for the ubiquitous ¨Tommy¨ in India.
We returned from glacier trip in El Chalten around 11pm. The hostel was a 20 minute walk from the bus station, through streets rife with dogs. Kavita threw the biggest panic fit at the thought of walking through their lair (mom will relate well to this!). Nagesh´s arm was squeezed, his tired head was chewn to bits, and his ears were filled with nervous complaints. We made it back safe realizing that these canine colonies were not hostile at all. It was indeed a social pack minding its own business.
We had finally earned a holiday after that hectic trip. El Calafate was a perfect town to relax with it´s easy lifestyle. Wooden log cabin style shops and buildings added to the vacation ambience. We discovered a lovely coffee shop lined with shelves full of touristy books on Argentina. It was a delicious way to spend the afternoon siesta time when everything in town shuts down. Life sleepily resumes again after 6pm. The waiters are in no hurry at the restaurants, neither to bring the food nor la cuenta (the check). They don´t seem to care about the tip either, or that´s our impression.
The next day, we booked ourselves on a tour to the city most famous attraction : the Perito Moreno glacier at the south end of the Los Glaciares NP.
Day 2: Los Glaciares National Park, El Chalten
We unzipped our tents at 6am next morning to the sight of amber peaks blushing under the first rays of the sun. Guess who was doing the rounds waking people up? Mariano you bet! We dragged ourselves to the wooden box first and then to the breakfast tent.
The agenda this morning included crossing a river on a rope harness, a trek across the glacier, and attempting to climb an ice wall. Trekking on the glacier requires clampons, special spiky shoes that are tied to your hiking boots. Mariano had custom fitted clampons for each of us that we had to carry this morning. After breakfast, the guides fitted us with harnesses for the river crossing and ice climbing. There was an eerie feeling when we tightened the harnesses around our waist. We had never previously attempted any of these activities.
Before leaving the camp, the cooks handed out lunch packets. Since we were returning to camp after the glacier trek, we decided not to carry any extra stuff with us, including lunch. A mistake we would dearly regret. We set off with backpacks weighed down by the heavy iron clampons, water, gloves, and warm clothes.
The hike to the glacier was an relentless three hour climb punctuated with the most gorgeous vistas. Mariana and Pepe were barely giving us any time to soak in views of the sparkling glacier and the surrounding peaks silhoutted against the spotless blue skies. We marched onward on a thin ridge until we hit the river crossing. Gulp! Kavita was openly nervous while Nagesh seemed very excited about this stunt. A rope is tied across the river and they attach you to it at the waist. Then swinging from the rope, you pull yourself to the other shore using your arms and the pulley. Kavita thought the first girl to volunteer and scurry across on the rope was mighty brave. Soon, Mariano was strapping Kavita on and she rolled along with the alacrity of a pro, shouting from the other end that it had seemed tougher than it really was. Nagesh went next, trying not to look down at the river gushing below. It was very exhilarating.
After a very arduous hike through huge rocks we got to the mouth of the glacier. It seemed completely unreal. We were standing on ice with crystal fields stretching all around us. The initial part of the glacier was black. We could´ve been walking on another planet, the moon, anywhere but on this earth. Clampon time!
Mariana and Pepe made sure our new shoes were properly tied on. We felt like titans from The Terminator - an army on the move. Clampons make the feet so heavy and you have to keep your feet far apart to prevent from tripping over yourself. Not a risk worth taking, unless you want to explore those deep glacial crevices. The ice cracked under our feet like glass but soon we were confidently trekking on ice. But wait a minute. The confidence melted away into a puddle of mortal fear when we were required to jump across a huge crevice to the other side. Two guides on each end held on to our hands and harnesses. There was no time to procrastinate. They would just yell jump and push you across before you knew what was happening.
Every shade of blue is reflected in the nooks and cranies of the glacier. The penetrating rays of the sun bring out unreal tones. Aaah!!! Ever tried a refreshing swig of water fresh from a melting glacier? Pure pure water, but, as Pepe was quick to point out, totally devoid of any minerals. After an hour on the glacier we faced our last challenge: a 60 foot ice wall. Time for the lunch that we´d conveniently left at the camp. We were famished and it didn´t help to watch others gulping down their sandwiches.
Nagesh was the first volunteer to climb the wall. Bravo! Kavita was so proud of him. First Mariano gave us some pointers on the technical climb using ice picks and clampons. The key is to use one limb at a time and get a good foothold before hoisting yourself up. And this one is way tougher than it looks. Up went Nagesh without a glitch, straight to the top of the wall as everyone around cheered on. Kavita had knots in her tummy... did she have to do this? The girls that went up next just could not get a firm foothold and were struggling to stay on. One guy´s shoes came off midway and another was hanging with one arm. None of this was boosting Kavita´s courage. All except Nagesh and Pepe who played cheerleaders. Kavita went up one step at a time, without any disastrous moments. It felt like such an accomplishment! Now we know Spiderman´s job ain´t easy.
We started at 8am and our strenuous day ended at 6pm. More than 8 hours of intense activities later - did we mention that we hiked with full backpacks - we were beat and lacking the energy even to walk to our bus station. A 5 hour long bumpy ride awaited us before we could hit the hot shower and the sack. To add to our misery, we must tell you that there are huge signs all over the bus forbidding you from taking your shoes off. Since we weren´t carrying flip-flops, we had to squirm in our sweaty socks the rest of the way home.
The agenda this morning included crossing a river on a rope harness, a trek across the glacier, and attempting to climb an ice wall. Trekking on the glacier requires clampons, special spiky shoes that are tied to your hiking boots. Mariano had custom fitted clampons for each of us that we had to carry this morning. After breakfast, the guides fitted us with harnesses for the river crossing and ice climbing. There was an eerie feeling when we tightened the harnesses around our waist. We had never previously attempted any of these activities.
Before leaving the camp, the cooks handed out lunch packets. Since we were returning to camp after the glacier trek, we decided not to carry any extra stuff with us, including lunch. A mistake we would dearly regret. We set off with backpacks weighed down by the heavy iron clampons, water, gloves, and warm clothes.
The hike to the glacier was an relentless three hour climb punctuated with the most gorgeous vistas. Mariana and Pepe were barely giving us any time to soak in views of the sparkling glacier and the surrounding peaks silhoutted against the spotless blue skies. We marched onward on a thin ridge until we hit the river crossing. Gulp! Kavita was openly nervous while Nagesh seemed very excited about this stunt. A rope is tied across the river and they attach you to it at the waist. Then swinging from the rope, you pull yourself to the other shore using your arms and the pulley. Kavita thought the first girl to volunteer and scurry across on the rope was mighty brave. Soon, Mariano was strapping Kavita on and she rolled along with the alacrity of a pro, shouting from the other end that it had seemed tougher than it really was. Nagesh went next, trying not to look down at the river gushing below. It was very exhilarating.
After a very arduous hike through huge rocks we got to the mouth of the glacier. It seemed completely unreal. We were standing on ice with crystal fields stretching all around us. The initial part of the glacier was black. We could´ve been walking on another planet, the moon, anywhere but on this earth. Clampon time!
Mariana and Pepe made sure our new shoes were properly tied on. We felt like titans from The Terminator - an army on the move. Clampons make the feet so heavy and you have to keep your feet far apart to prevent from tripping over yourself. Not a risk worth taking, unless you want to explore those deep glacial crevices. The ice cracked under our feet like glass but soon we were confidently trekking on ice. But wait a minute. The confidence melted away into a puddle of mortal fear when we were required to jump across a huge crevice to the other side. Two guides on each end held on to our hands and harnesses. There was no time to procrastinate. They would just yell jump and push you across before you knew what was happening.
Every shade of blue is reflected in the nooks and cranies of the glacier. The penetrating rays of the sun bring out unreal tones. Aaah!!! Ever tried a refreshing swig of water fresh from a melting glacier? Pure pure water, but, as Pepe was quick to point out, totally devoid of any minerals. After an hour on the glacier we faced our last challenge: a 60 foot ice wall. Time for the lunch that we´d conveniently left at the camp. We were famished and it didn´t help to watch others gulping down their sandwiches.
Nagesh was the first volunteer to climb the wall. Bravo! Kavita was so proud of him. First Mariano gave us some pointers on the technical climb using ice picks and clampons. The key is to use one limb at a time and get a good foothold before hoisting yourself up. And this one is way tougher than it looks. Up went Nagesh without a glitch, straight to the top of the wall as everyone around cheered on. Kavita had knots in her tummy... did she have to do this? The girls that went up next just could not get a firm foothold and were struggling to stay on. One guy´s shoes came off midway and another was hanging with one arm. None of this was boosting Kavita´s courage. All except Nagesh and Pepe who played cheerleaders. Kavita went up one step at a time, without any disastrous moments. It felt like such an accomplishment! Now we know Spiderman´s job ain´t easy.
We started at 8am and our strenuous day ended at 6pm. More than 8 hours of intense activities later - did we mention that we hiked with full backpacks - we were beat and lacking the energy even to walk to our bus station. A 5 hour long bumpy ride awaited us before we could hit the hot shower and the sack. To add to our misery, we must tell you that there are huge signs all over the bus forbidding you from taking your shoes off. Since we weren´t carrying flip-flops, we had to squirm in our sweaty socks the rest of the way home.
Los Glaciares National Park, El Chalten, Argentina
A taxi picked us up at the crack of dawn to ferry us to the bus station. A five hour dusty ride through the Argentine steppes was broken by a brief stop for breakfast. We mention this stop to pay tribute to our first Guanaco sighting - adorable creatures that look like a cross between camels and llamas. The poor guy was tied outside the Hosteria, offering kodak moments to visitors. We waited on the sidelines for the fellow to have a cross moment with one of the pesky tourists and were nearly rewarded when a zealous old lady went overboard with the petting routine.
Confusion awaited us at the national park. At the visitor center, tourists from different buses were hustled into separate rooms for Spanish and English speakers. After a brief overview of the park and trails, we were left in the lurch wondering how our tour would kick off. The bus took us to our next stop where we were relieved to see a long-haired guy holding a placard with our names. There are no formal introductions in this country, everything is just assumed. We discovered with time that there were two other couples in our group. Alejandro from Buenos Aires, his girlfriend Carolina from Barcelona, Dominique from South Africa, and her husband Mark from London. Both couples seemed amicable and we were in for a good time.
Mariano and Pepe were the names of our guides who looked straight out of a rock band, complete with braided hair, tattoos, and piercings. Mariano spoke very little English and Pepe was the translator. We still had no clue about the agenda. They frisked us away in a mini-van to the base camp office. After a briefing and gear check, we found ourselves once again in the mini-van. OK so we still hadn´t left clueless land. The driver, Mariano, and Pepe sat in the front seat jiving to Metallica. And we rattled ahead thinking to ourselves ¨nothing else matters.¨
Next stop: lunch at a vista point near a private ranch. This is the first time the guides started divulging some details about the trek. Our path charted around the famous Fitz Roy massif and through a scenic route up to our campsite. A five hour journey.
Post lunch we began our long trek that carved its way through the Lenga tree forests. Mariano was a mean hiker. And guess who the stragglers were, huffing and panting to keep up with the group.
¨Shhhh!¨ said Mariano pointing in the distance. A crimson crested Patagonian woodpecker was hard at work. ¨Vamos!¨ He wasn´t going to give us a minute to rest. Not until we got to our first vista point. A clearing through the forest revealed the Fitz Roy massif in all its formidable glory, cradling a glacier melting into an emerald lake.
An hour later, we were standing on a vast granite rock that was once a glacier. This open space with mountains on three sides was the venue for our geography lesson. Mariano would rattle off several sentences in Spanish translated by Pepe into a couple of terse lines in English. Remember Lost In Translation?
They explained the differences in rock formations that composed the Fitz Roy massif versus other volcanic and slate mountains nearby. Glaciers have carved the topography of this entire region and a combination of heat and pressure have etched the rock formations.
Vamos again until we can rest our feet at the blue-green lagoon that was behind the mountain range in sight. Crystal clear ponds reflecting the azure skies invited us to dip our feet. What a refreshing break! Looks like the guides had all the haunts down. Two hours later, we were at the campsite.
Each couple got a tent with mats and sleeping bags. There were several tents belonging to other tour groups also. A wooden box was their excuse for a bathroom. But even this porta potty seemed like a blessing after we what we had read in the park brochures about burying our excrement in the ground. We had come prepared for the worst.
A full fledged kitchen served a three course hot dinner complete with wine, wholesome soup, pasta, and a dessert of peaches and cream! Dining room conversation focussed on getting to know our trip mates better. Alejandro filled us in on Argentine history, the gauchos, and tango in Buenos Aires.
Ten o´clock heralded bed time in camping land. The night sky was studded with a million glittering stars. It was absolutely unreal. All you astronomy buffs have to get your butts down here just for this sight. In the meanwhile, we needed to get our butts to the wooden box one last time... after which we completely lost our way to our tent. Not easy to navigate in the pitch dark with a hundred tents everywhere. What was the color of our tent again?
We zipped ourselves into the very warm sleeping bags. It was freezing outside and we fell asleep to the strains of drunken spanish songs from the tent next door.
Confusion awaited us at the national park. At the visitor center, tourists from different buses were hustled into separate rooms for Spanish and English speakers. After a brief overview of the park and trails, we were left in the lurch wondering how our tour would kick off. The bus took us to our next stop where we were relieved to see a long-haired guy holding a placard with our names. There are no formal introductions in this country, everything is just assumed. We discovered with time that there were two other couples in our group. Alejandro from Buenos Aires, his girlfriend Carolina from Barcelona, Dominique from South Africa, and her husband Mark from London. Both couples seemed amicable and we were in for a good time.
Mariano and Pepe were the names of our guides who looked straight out of a rock band, complete with braided hair, tattoos, and piercings. Mariano spoke very little English and Pepe was the translator. We still had no clue about the agenda. They frisked us away in a mini-van to the base camp office. After a briefing and gear check, we found ourselves once again in the mini-van. OK so we still hadn´t left clueless land. The driver, Mariano, and Pepe sat in the front seat jiving to Metallica. And we rattled ahead thinking to ourselves ¨nothing else matters.¨
Next stop: lunch at a vista point near a private ranch. This is the first time the guides started divulging some details about the trek. Our path charted around the famous Fitz Roy massif and through a scenic route up to our campsite. A five hour journey.
Post lunch we began our long trek that carved its way through the Lenga tree forests. Mariano was a mean hiker. And guess who the stragglers were, huffing and panting to keep up with the group.
¨Shhhh!¨ said Mariano pointing in the distance. A crimson crested Patagonian woodpecker was hard at work. ¨Vamos!¨ He wasn´t going to give us a minute to rest. Not until we got to our first vista point. A clearing through the forest revealed the Fitz Roy massif in all its formidable glory, cradling a glacier melting into an emerald lake.
An hour later, we were standing on a vast granite rock that was once a glacier. This open space with mountains on three sides was the venue for our geography lesson. Mariano would rattle off several sentences in Spanish translated by Pepe into a couple of terse lines in English. Remember Lost In Translation?
They explained the differences in rock formations that composed the Fitz Roy massif versus other volcanic and slate mountains nearby. Glaciers have carved the topography of this entire region and a combination of heat and pressure have etched the rock formations.
Vamos again until we can rest our feet at the blue-green lagoon that was behind the mountain range in sight. Crystal clear ponds reflecting the azure skies invited us to dip our feet. What a refreshing break! Looks like the guides had all the haunts down. Two hours later, we were at the campsite.
Each couple got a tent with mats and sleeping bags. There were several tents belonging to other tour groups also. A wooden box was their excuse for a bathroom. But even this porta potty seemed like a blessing after we what we had read in the park brochures about burying our excrement in the ground. We had come prepared for the worst.
A full fledged kitchen served a three course hot dinner complete with wine, wholesome soup, pasta, and a dessert of peaches and cream! Dining room conversation focussed on getting to know our trip mates better. Alejandro filled us in on Argentine history, the gauchos, and tango in Buenos Aires.
Ten o´clock heralded bed time in camping land. The night sky was studded with a million glittering stars. It was absolutely unreal. All you astronomy buffs have to get your butts down here just for this sight. In the meanwhile, we needed to get our butts to the wooden box one last time... after which we completely lost our way to our tent. Not easy to navigate in the pitch dark with a hundred tents everywhere. What was the color of our tent again?
We zipped ourselves into the very warm sleeping bags. It was freezing outside and we fell asleep to the strains of drunken spanish songs from the tent next door.
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