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.
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