217km of absolute openess connects El Chaltèn to El Calafate. Both towns exist more or less for the sole purpose of supporting tourism to the area but I happen to like them. Unlike other tourist heavy destinations such as those I visited in Peru, these places are still quiet and muy tranquilo. There is no hard sell. No one chasing me down the street harrasing me to get a massage or shoving some tourist menu in my face. No one hounds me when I enter the shops to admire the handicrafts. They actually approach me and begin speaking in Spanish instead of assuming I speak English and therefore treat me like a gringo dollar sign. I appreciate all of these touches.
Though things are more expensive in this area as they are still relying heavily on the ports to import goods, it seems like they have a better understanding of tourism and things are more or less of better quality. This is especially true of the handicrafts. This town being super touristy, has plently of artesanal shops that I could spend hours exploring, so I did. They actually contained things that I would want to buy if I had the space or money for them. Real handmade products, not just stall after stall of massproduced poor quality crap. The knit and woven work is especially outstanding and makes me want a flock of sheep of my own to keep me in enough wool to replicate some of their beautiful work.
I am working on enjoying my holiday (a term I am adopting) and not worrying so much about money. I found a divey inexpensive hostel to stay so I decided to go out for a glass of wine. I am in Argentina afterall. I had a lovely time sitting in the restaurant sipping my glass of sorta crappy house red. Sure I could`ve bought an entire bottle of higher quality wine for the same price, but I would have had to drink it all by myself, in the dingy hostel filled with really loud Israelis. I reminded myself that how cheaply I am able to do something is not really the point and ended up having a quite enjoyable evening.
The weather in Patagonia is known for its unpredictability but since arriving in El Chaltèn I have had nothing but blue skies. Things were a little cloudier and chillier in El Calafate but still nothing to complain about. I was headed to see the Perito Moreno Glaciar located about 80km outside of town. I left sunny El Calafate and drove straight into a big dark cloud.
The Perito Moreno Glaciar is one of the few glaciers in the world that is moving. It wsa immense at about 60m high and 14 km long. It felt like arriving at Niagra Falls and finding it frozen. Well, maybe not that huge, but very impressive. I hung out with the glacier for the afternoon in the wind and cold cold rain. I stared into the unnaturally vivid blue crevices and listened to the massive glacier creak and groan and crack like thunder as pieces broke of and fell into the water below. It was pretty awesome and so much more than just a big piece of ice.
Back in town the weather was a bit better and I walked around the shops a little bit more before turning in for the night. They say it takes around 6 months for a person to adjust to a new job. I estimate that it takes me about 5 months to adjust to traveling. The same thing happened when I was driving through Mexico and Central America. About 5 months in I start to get very comfortable with the language and the pace and finally start to remember what it is all about, and then I have to go home. At this point I just want to keep going forever and continue going south until I run out of continent and end up in Antarctica. In order to prevent this, I bought a ticket for a 24 hour bus ride to take me out of this land before I get in too deep. I am really sad to be leaving Patagonia, it`s so quiet and still so untouched in many ways. But I am in hot pursuit of penguins who have managed to evade me thus far. Someday I would love to return to this peaceful place at the end of the world fully loaded with a tent, a warm sleeping bag, and a rental car. There is so much more to explore.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
El Chaltèn
The road to El Chaltèn was a 12 hour stretch of ripio down Rt. 40, Argentina`s answer to the Carretera Austral, but in a little better shape. The lanscape was wide open and brambly. We stopped for a break at Bajo Caracoles a town with about 50 people located in the true middle of nowhere. There, I witnessed one of the most impressive sunsets of my life. The crimsons and peach and apricot spread like fire across the sky in deep brush strokes so magnificent it brought to mind the Sistine Chapel.
It was cold and the wind slapped hard against me as it swept across the wide open pampa. Inside the bus I found no relief. The air conditioning for some inexplicable reason was turned on full blast for the entire ride. I hadn`t been on a bus that cold since Colombia and had fallen out of the habit of bringing my sleeping bag on the bus, though I wished that I had. I sat freezing and trying to sleep through the cold on the bus without much success. At around 6:30am I arrived in El Chaltèn, a small tourist center located inside the perimeter of Parque Nacional Los Glaciares in the heart of Argentine Patagonia. Already chilled to the core from the bus ride I stepped into the night air which felt shockingly cold at 6.6C (42F). I realize that isn`t really cold but try telling that to my body which seemed to be in some sort of revolt. My nasal faucet was turned on full blast, my teeth were chattering wildly, and my whole body shook. I rumaged through my bag as soon as I could and threw on my other jacket and my wool gloves. Bare in mind that this is later summer/early fall in this part of the world. Walking to the hostel I sneezed about 10 or 12 times consecutively. It`s official, I thought. I am allergic to the cold.
After locating a hostel I dropped of my bags and began a hike up to Cerro Torre in the early morning light. Cerro Torre, which means Tower Hill, is huge. If they classify it as a hill I would love to know what they consider a mountain. The hike wasn`t too challenging, about 8 hours roundtrip, but it was a really peaceful and pretty path. I saw some wild hare and my first condor flying overhead. Cerro Torre itself was outstanding, steep, sharp spires of rock jutting out of a glacier which led into a murky green grey laguna which contained three little iceburgs. They were tiny little guys but my first iceburg nonetheless and I was pretty excited. My nose didn`t stop running the entire time and I began to wonder if in addition to this new allergy I discovered, I might also be getting sick.
I poked around the markets and shops in town, many of which were closed on Sunday, before heading back to the hostel where I made lunch, a hot cup of tea, and treated myself to a little recuperating nap.
After a good healthy nights sleep I woke up feeling a little bit less snuffy in the morning, though my nose was already beginning to get raw for the endless rubbing with my hankercheif. I went to a little market down the street and got some eggs and to the panaderia for a little bread for sandwiches and a medialuna, a sweet glazed delicious croissant, and my new favorite guilty pleasure. I took my time making breakfast and began my trek up to Cerro Fitz Roy around 11am. The trek from town and back was about 12.5km, began with a little upward battle and a muddy mid-section but was mostly at a nice comfortable pace. The last hour or so of the hike up to the Fitz Roy was a steep climb up a rocky path. The views from the top were well worth the challenge. The Fitz Roy massif is said to be so steep that snow won`t stick to the sides of it. It was very impressive and has to emerald green lagunas at its feet. I saw a mini-avalanche and sat in awe of such natural wonders while enjoying my lunch.
That night after returning to town I calculated that I had hiked around 47km over the past two days. No wonder I was tired. I am constantly amazed by how open and wild Patagonia is. Wind swept valleys with trees that are blown practically sideways and then all of a sudden these mountains rise up out of no where. And the colors! They are out of this world. I cannot begin to describe the way the landscape transforms itself at sunrise and sunset. This unbelievable mixture of violet, indigo, greens, mustards. Sometimes it breaks my heart to pass by these sights from the window of a bus without the opportunity to stop and get out of the car and admire.
It was cold and the wind slapped hard against me as it swept across the wide open pampa. Inside the bus I found no relief. The air conditioning for some inexplicable reason was turned on full blast for the entire ride. I hadn`t been on a bus that cold since Colombia and had fallen out of the habit of bringing my sleeping bag on the bus, though I wished that I had. I sat freezing and trying to sleep through the cold on the bus without much success. At around 6:30am I arrived in El Chaltèn, a small tourist center located inside the perimeter of Parque Nacional Los Glaciares in the heart of Argentine Patagonia. Already chilled to the core from the bus ride I stepped into the night air which felt shockingly cold at 6.6C (42F). I realize that isn`t really cold but try telling that to my body which seemed to be in some sort of revolt. My nasal faucet was turned on full blast, my teeth were chattering wildly, and my whole body shook. I rumaged through my bag as soon as I could and threw on my other jacket and my wool gloves. Bare in mind that this is later summer/early fall in this part of the world. Walking to the hostel I sneezed about 10 or 12 times consecutively. It`s official, I thought. I am allergic to the cold.
After locating a hostel I dropped of my bags and began a hike up to Cerro Torre in the early morning light. Cerro Torre, which means Tower Hill, is huge. If they classify it as a hill I would love to know what they consider a mountain. The hike wasn`t too challenging, about 8 hours roundtrip, but it was a really peaceful and pretty path. I saw some wild hare and my first condor flying overhead. Cerro Torre itself was outstanding, steep, sharp spires of rock jutting out of a glacier which led into a murky green grey laguna which contained three little iceburgs. They were tiny little guys but my first iceburg nonetheless and I was pretty excited. My nose didn`t stop running the entire time and I began to wonder if in addition to this new allergy I discovered, I might also be getting sick.
I poked around the markets and shops in town, many of which were closed on Sunday, before heading back to the hostel where I made lunch, a hot cup of tea, and treated myself to a little recuperating nap.
After a good healthy nights sleep I woke up feeling a little bit less snuffy in the morning, though my nose was already beginning to get raw for the endless rubbing with my hankercheif. I went to a little market down the street and got some eggs and to the panaderia for a little bread for sandwiches and a medialuna, a sweet glazed delicious croissant, and my new favorite guilty pleasure. I took my time making breakfast and began my trek up to Cerro Fitz Roy around 11am. The trek from town and back was about 12.5km, began with a little upward battle and a muddy mid-section but was mostly at a nice comfortable pace. The last hour or so of the hike up to the Fitz Roy was a steep climb up a rocky path. The views from the top were well worth the challenge. The Fitz Roy massif is said to be so steep that snow won`t stick to the sides of it. It was very impressive and has to emerald green lagunas at its feet. I saw a mini-avalanche and sat in awe of such natural wonders while enjoying my lunch.
That night after returning to town I calculated that I had hiked around 47km over the past two days. No wonder I was tired. I am constantly amazed by how open and wild Patagonia is. Wind swept valleys with trees that are blown practically sideways and then all of a sudden these mountains rise up out of no where. And the colors! They are out of this world. I cannot begin to describe the way the landscape transforms itself at sunrise and sunset. This unbelievable mixture of violet, indigo, greens, mustards. Sometimes it breaks my heart to pass by these sights from the window of a bus without the opportunity to stop and get out of the car and admire.
Fish Rising
The stretch of road between Villa Cerro Castillo and Cochrane was 343km of ripio in various states of disrepair. It was slow going but the scenery on either side of the bus was worth the slow pace and high price. One side of the bus passed by burnt pastureland, silver stumps of trees laid on their sides strewn across the hillsides like Lincoln Logs, the hills rising up into mountains and colliding with blue cloudless skies. The opposite side of the bus was priviledged to so Lago General Carrera (Lago Buenos Aires on the Argentine side) the second largest lake after Titicaca in South America. It was one of the prettiest bus rides I have been on so far. The tourqouise water shone iridecently and lapped at the foot of mountains with snowy peaks.
Cochrane has just under 3,000 people living within its borders and is a quiet little village located at the convergence of a few rivers. There isn`t much to do there but walk around to the different grocery stores and markets, explore the panaderias (bakeries) to sample the pastries and learn where the best rolls are baked, so that is exactly what we did. We must have gone into the markets 3 or 4 times a day, just to poke around and look at the aisles. When we first arrived we walked around a bit with our packs trying to find the elusive free camping spot near the river. Unable to locate one the first night we settled for `tent city´ a camping place suggested in my guidebook which was no more than someones backyard filled with what seemed to be every camper in the area. But it was good enough, there was a toilet, hot showers, and the ability to have a campfire - wood provided. We went out to dinner that night at a nice local joint with slow service but good beer from Kunstmann in Valdivia.
In the morning we packed up camp and set off yet again to try to find a nice place near the river. Josh was really certain that the ideal location existed and was determined to find it. I asked the woman at the grocery store if she knew of a place and she pointed in one direction but we set out in another, Josh following his fisherman nose, or something. We didn`t find a thing in that direction and so continued in the direction that the woman pointed us in earlier. We found a nice place near the river that would provide a great opportunity to swim, weather permitting, but it was a bit out in the open and wasn`t a designated place to camp so we would`ve preferred to be a little more secluded and where we would be able to have a fire. We took a break for a bit while deciding whether to set up camp there or not. In the river the fish were literally jumping out of the water, called rising. I had never seen anything like that before in my life. Bryan set up his pole to try to catch some dinner and could hardly cast his line in without catching a fish. Unfortunately the only fish biting were tiny little trout, not big enough to eat so Bryan gave me my first fly fishing lesson. It took a lot more coordination than I thought it would but I started to get the rhythm of it after a few attempts with a very patient instructor. I learned how to cast and how to mend and the theory and skill behind fly fishing. The fish weren`t going for my fly though, I just couldn`t get my line out far enough. After a nice tour around town and an afternoon by the riverside we found ourselves in Tent City once again.
My last day in Cochrane was again spent next to the river where we almost camped. The boys tried to catch larger fish to no avail. We did our regular rotation of the markets in town and just relaxed. There is nothing to do in Patagonia and it forces you to slow down and be still your surroundings, a quality of the area that I really appreciate.
In the morning I was headed to Chile Chico to cross the border into Argentina at Los Antiguos. Bryan and Josh were staying in Cochrane one more day until their bus to Villa O`Higgins where the Carretera Austral ends. They were doing a border crossing into Chile that involved ferries and 14km of trekking across the frontera on foot. The style of the crossing intrgued me a great deal but it was going to take too much time so I went the easy route and rode across the border in a minibus. Los Antiguos is a nice town with little to do. Its main attraction is the fruit farms which produce huge amounts of cherries and have an annual Cherry Festival every year. I visited one of the farms during my stay and found out that the cherry season ended on January 15th, so I bought a bag of dried bing cherries that were delicious nonetheless.
I spent two nights in Los Antiguos waiting for my bus to El Chaltèn to depart. I was enjoying Patagonia so much and the unquenchable urge to keep going and going farther into this land. I felt a little bad that I wasn`t heading back north to go to the farm I had planned for March right away...wasn`t that the `goal´ of my trip anyway? But then a handsome little froggy reminded me that I don`t need to be so focused on what I am supposed to be doing, or what I planned on doing, or what I am expected to be doing and that if I am drawn to see more of Patagonia then I should, because there will be plenty of time to learn more about farming. This was all the reminder I needed to remember that this is my trip and I can do whatever I want with it. So I bought some Dulce de Leche Oreos (a strange buy I know) but they intrigued me, went to a cafe that served real coffee and enjoyed it while sitting on a little couch doing crossword puzzles. Afterwards I hiked up to a little Mirador (lookout) and sat by myself for a while overlooking Lago Buenos Aires without a sound but the wind. It was a slow and pleasant day.
Cochrane has just under 3,000 people living within its borders and is a quiet little village located at the convergence of a few rivers. There isn`t much to do there but walk around to the different grocery stores and markets, explore the panaderias (bakeries) to sample the pastries and learn where the best rolls are baked, so that is exactly what we did. We must have gone into the markets 3 or 4 times a day, just to poke around and look at the aisles. When we first arrived we walked around a bit with our packs trying to find the elusive free camping spot near the river. Unable to locate one the first night we settled for `tent city´ a camping place suggested in my guidebook which was no more than someones backyard filled with what seemed to be every camper in the area. But it was good enough, there was a toilet, hot showers, and the ability to have a campfire - wood provided. We went out to dinner that night at a nice local joint with slow service but good beer from Kunstmann in Valdivia.
In the morning we packed up camp and set off yet again to try to find a nice place near the river. Josh was really certain that the ideal location existed and was determined to find it. I asked the woman at the grocery store if she knew of a place and she pointed in one direction but we set out in another, Josh following his fisherman nose, or something. We didn`t find a thing in that direction and so continued in the direction that the woman pointed us in earlier. We found a nice place near the river that would provide a great opportunity to swim, weather permitting, but it was a bit out in the open and wasn`t a designated place to camp so we would`ve preferred to be a little more secluded and where we would be able to have a fire. We took a break for a bit while deciding whether to set up camp there or not. In the river the fish were literally jumping out of the water, called rising. I had never seen anything like that before in my life. Bryan set up his pole to try to catch some dinner and could hardly cast his line in without catching a fish. Unfortunately the only fish biting were tiny little trout, not big enough to eat so Bryan gave me my first fly fishing lesson. It took a lot more coordination than I thought it would but I started to get the rhythm of it after a few attempts with a very patient instructor. I learned how to cast and how to mend and the theory and skill behind fly fishing. The fish weren`t going for my fly though, I just couldn`t get my line out far enough. After a nice tour around town and an afternoon by the riverside we found ourselves in Tent City once again.
My last day in Cochrane was again spent next to the river where we almost camped. The boys tried to catch larger fish to no avail. We did our regular rotation of the markets in town and just relaxed. There is nothing to do in Patagonia and it forces you to slow down and be still your surroundings, a quality of the area that I really appreciate.
In the morning I was headed to Chile Chico to cross the border into Argentina at Los Antiguos. Bryan and Josh were staying in Cochrane one more day until their bus to Villa O`Higgins where the Carretera Austral ends. They were doing a border crossing into Chile that involved ferries and 14km of trekking across the frontera on foot. The style of the crossing intrgued me a great deal but it was going to take too much time so I went the easy route and rode across the border in a minibus. Los Antiguos is a nice town with little to do. Its main attraction is the fruit farms which produce huge amounts of cherries and have an annual Cherry Festival every year. I visited one of the farms during my stay and found out that the cherry season ended on January 15th, so I bought a bag of dried bing cherries that were delicious nonetheless.
I spent two nights in Los Antiguos waiting for my bus to El Chaltèn to depart. I was enjoying Patagonia so much and the unquenchable urge to keep going and going farther into this land. I felt a little bad that I wasn`t heading back north to go to the farm I had planned for March right away...wasn`t that the `goal´ of my trip anyway? But then a handsome little froggy reminded me that I don`t need to be so focused on what I am supposed to be doing, or what I planned on doing, or what I am expected to be doing and that if I am drawn to see more of Patagonia then I should, because there will be plenty of time to learn more about farming. This was all the reminder I needed to remember that this is my trip and I can do whatever I want with it. So I bought some Dulce de Leche Oreos (a strange buy I know) but they intrigued me, went to a cafe that served real coffee and enjoyed it while sitting on a little couch doing crossword puzzles. Afterwards I hiked up to a little Mirador (lookout) and sat by myself for a while overlooking Lago Buenos Aires without a sound but the wind. It was a slow and pleasant day.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Carretera Austral
The trip from Coyhaique to La Junta should have taken, according to the calculations of Andres who gave me the ride to La Junta, about 5 hours. Had I continued by car he may have been right. But I continued on the slowest bus ever. It crawled down the ripio (gravel) road at a snails pace. The rocks were loose and the gravel was wet, the roads washed away in parts from the recent rain storms. I was surprised we made it up some of the hills as I heard the wheels fight for traction below me. I expected to arrive in Coyhaique with plenty of daylight so that I could find my hostel without trouble. When I eventually arrived 10 hours later it was midnight and I was in the middle of Coyhaique, a town of about 43,000 people, and the commercial center of the Aysen region. But at midnight, the commercial center looked decidedly uncommercial and though I had the name of a hostel, it was located a 2km walk out of town and I hadn´t a map or any idea which way to go. I approached two English speaking travelers, Josh from Montana and Bryan from Colorado. They didn´t have a plan either and were hoping for an ideal camping spot next to the river but it was no looking like that wouldn´t be happening. So we decided to grab a taxi rather than attempt to walk somewhere in the dark without a map. The hostel was a log cabin outside of town and felt very ski lodgey with a warm woodstove in the center of the common area, a kitchen to use, and 3 baby kittens to make me smile.
The next day I explored the town and went to the airline office to ask about a flight down to Punta Arenas. The flight was definitely affordable and seemed promising. Until the woman told me the next available flight wasn´t leaving until March 4th. At this time it was around the 23rd of February and I definitely couldn´t wait that long for a flight. Later at the hostel I was telling Bryan and Josh about the letdown at the airline and since they were headed south as well they invited me along. They had a three person tent and were planning on camping their way down the Carretera Austral and eventually crossing over into Argentina when the Carretera ends. They were attracted to this area for the incredible fly fishing it is well known for and had all the gear needed to camp. I had no gear and a weak sleeping bag, but we decided that it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement if we traded my language abilities for their tent. We spent one more night in Coyhaique where we made our ininerary for the next few days. Since my sleeping bag was only graded for +55F they suggested I buy asleeping pad to try to keep off the ground. The only one I could find was not much more than a yoga mat, but it was only two bucks, so I bought it anyway.
Josh and Bryan ran into Greg, a biker who they had met earlier in their travels, and the four of us continued farther south along the ripio road to Villa Cerro Castillo a town with about 500 residents. We inquired about campsites, but most charged money so we set out to find the ever idyllic campsite by the river. We followed signs to Camp 3 Hermanos, but we never saw the 3 hermanos and instead ended up with a great spot near(ish) to the river with an outstanding view of the Cerro Castillo peaks above us, shrouded by clouds as they were. My first night camping I was freezing. I had on two pairs of wool socks, two pairs of pants, a tee shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, a fleece jacket, and a hat. I was still cold but woke up feeling rested.
We did a nice 8 or 9 hour trek the following day through pastureland, forests, and windy bluffs. We returned to camp and made a badass pasta dinner and decided to reward ourselves after the hike with a little alcohol. After some beer, some wine, and a copious amount of whiskey around the campfire and the addition of a down jacket borrowed from Bryan I was nice and toasty the second night. After two nights of possible trespassing in Cerro Castillo we got a bus to Cochrane, 343km south of Coyhaique.
The next day I explored the town and went to the airline office to ask about a flight down to Punta Arenas. The flight was definitely affordable and seemed promising. Until the woman told me the next available flight wasn´t leaving until March 4th. At this time it was around the 23rd of February and I definitely couldn´t wait that long for a flight. Later at the hostel I was telling Bryan and Josh about the letdown at the airline and since they were headed south as well they invited me along. They had a three person tent and were planning on camping their way down the Carretera Austral and eventually crossing over into Argentina when the Carretera ends. They were attracted to this area for the incredible fly fishing it is well known for and had all the gear needed to camp. I had no gear and a weak sleeping bag, but we decided that it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement if we traded my language abilities for their tent. We spent one more night in Coyhaique where we made our ininerary for the next few days. Since my sleeping bag was only graded for +55F they suggested I buy asleeping pad to try to keep off the ground. The only one I could find was not much more than a yoga mat, but it was only two bucks, so I bought it anyway.
Josh and Bryan ran into Greg, a biker who they had met earlier in their travels, and the four of us continued farther south along the ripio road to Villa Cerro Castillo a town with about 500 residents. We inquired about campsites, but most charged money so we set out to find the ever idyllic campsite by the river. We followed signs to Camp 3 Hermanos, but we never saw the 3 hermanos and instead ended up with a great spot near(ish) to the river with an outstanding view of the Cerro Castillo peaks above us, shrouded by clouds as they were. My first night camping I was freezing. I had on two pairs of wool socks, two pairs of pants, a tee shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, a fleece jacket, and a hat. I was still cold but woke up feeling rested.
We did a nice 8 or 9 hour trek the following day through pastureland, forests, and windy bluffs. We returned to camp and made a badass pasta dinner and decided to reward ourselves after the hike with a little alcohol. After some beer, some wine, and a copious amount of whiskey around the campfire and the addition of a down jacket borrowed from Bryan I was nice and toasty the second night. After two nights of possible trespassing in Cerro Castillo we got a bus to Cochrane, 343km south of Coyhaique.
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