Los Glaciares: An Introduction (because I waffle)

Well provisioned and with blisters healed, the four of us walked out of El Chalten and civilisation headed once more for the hills.

Actually it depends on your definition of 'civilisation'. Mine includes a good internet connection and allegedly the fierce Patagonian wind kept on knocking out El Chalten's connection. If your memory stretches back to dial-up...well it was a lot slower. And I suppose I only dare mention it because good free WiFi was the norm everywhere we'd been so far. Well, El Chalten definitely lived up to it's frontier town reputation!

The northern section of Los Glaciares National Park is more famous for it's granite towers and particularly Cerro Torre and Fitz Roy, than for it's glaciers despite being set on the Heilo Sur, the largest ice cap outside the earth's polar regions. Perhaps this is because of a need to compete with the more famous - and Chilean - Torres del Paine, since some unfortunate travellers are actually forced to make the tough choice of hiking one or the other.

It could also be because those peaks are some of mountaineerings greatest prizes. Either way the comparison between the two was constantly at the back of my mind. You know, just in case someone actually asked my opinion on the matter!

Any guide book will tell you that one great advantage of the area is that most of the walks can be done in a day, meaning no need to carry a heavy pack. Yes, we saw plenty of day walkers and smugly thought to ourselves 'pussies!'

Now I'll clarify that I think the word to use here is 'wusses'. At least that's the good and proper Australian school yard term of phrase given that, pussies is more commonly accepted as to be referring to something else unless of course you're in an Agatha Christie novel in which case it's completely different. Anyway, from day one Hannes insisted on the word 'pussy' so that became the official word for the trip.

But what the guide books don't mention is how much the scenery changes. Unlike in Torres del Paine where it gradually seemed to evolve, at Los Glaciares we had a wonderful taste of everything on the very first day.

We started by climbing up the hill alongside the wide river bed surrounded by snow capped mountains.

Next was a detour to Laguna Capri where we got a first glimpse of Fitz Roy, with low clouds hanging around it's peak.

Then we hit the plain where we had lunch observing the granite towers.

And staring at the reflections in the pools of water along the trail while listening to the gurgle of the crystal clear river.

We saw a glimpse of Laguna Piedras Blancas and it's glacier, while spotting little tiny figures down among the moraine debris.

We played in the forest.

And turned towards the Refugio Los Troncos passing through a broad valley flanked by coloured mountains like the ones we had been mesmerised by around Salta.

On the approach to our camp spot we met a couple horses, that try as I may, were not interested in a pat. Well, at least I could still smell them if only from a distance.

Finally we arrived at the refugio and our camp spot for night which was nicely positioned in the shelter of a large rock that had been plunked down in the middle of the valley floor surrounded by more colour in the mountains and the beautiful evening sky.

Visiting Perito Moreno Glacier

Just like Iguazu, the Perito Moreno Glacier is one of those places you have to visit. So we packed ourselves up, sadly waved goodbye to Omar and our new friends at Kaweskar Hostel and left Chile. Again. But this time we weren't alone standing in the immigration queue for an hour. Our two Torres del Paine walking buddies were headed to El Calafate and Perito Moreno as well.

Given our group size (wow...four people!) we decided to rent a car for the following day – no mean feat on a Sunday – to check out both the glacier and the supposedly 'off the beaten track' Lago Roca.

Well, the car rental turned out to be a pretty good idea. Despite starting out as a blustery but sunny day in El Calafate, as we covered the 80km to Perito Moreno the clouds grew thicker and turned a more threatening shade of grey and the light rain turned into a downpour. So we saw almost nothing of the allegedly spectacular scenery on the drive along Lago Argentino.

 The first sighting of Perito Moreno – still from the drive - lifted our spirits somewhat, knowing that we would at least be able to see the glacier despite the fog and rain. And what a view. That first glimpse of blue ice always takes my breath away!

But really there's no way to miss it. With a 5 kilometre wide terminal face and rising an average of 74m out of Lago Argentino even bad weather can't obscure it. On top of that, it's amazingly accessible with walkways on the bank of the lake that feel like you're right up against it, even though at that size there is no way to appreciate how massive it actually is.

Apart from it's beauty, Perito Moreno is remarkable for the fact that huge chunks of ice regularly calve off the terminal face so it's as much an auditory experience as a visual one.

We stood in the rain until our waterproof jackets were soaked...although still waterproof, waiting for the ice drama to unfold.

From time to time we'd hear the enormous rumble that sounded like thunder and would desperately scan the glacier to see the pieces of ice slide into the lake. And just like at Glacier Grey they seemed really small!

Sodden, we returned to the car and headed for Lago Roca. At that point the weather hadn't improved nor did it for the rest of the afternoon, so the view of what seemed like a very pretty area was a bit patchy, but at least we were warm and dry.

What we did see, were enormous looking birds of prey on the side of the road that didn't mind the least bit being photographed.

The lake itself was rather unimpressive in the grey drizzle, so we entertained ourselves while stretching our legs by jumping in the puddles in an attempt to spraying mud at everyone else. Okay, only some of us did that! And then on the way out we nearly got the car bogged! It took four great minds all offering opinions on how to get up the hill and some skilful driving.

Finally we returned to El Calafate and would you believe that there the sun was still shining!

Doing the W! Torres del Paine: Part Two

What's the attraction of this walk, that people who have never lugged around a backpack on a multi-day trail come here to 'do the “W”'? It seemed that everyone we met in our travels was either on their way, or had come from Torres del Paine. Even I, who has stated more times than either Jeff or I would like to remember, that 'I hate bush walking' and 'I hope to never do it again!' had put it near the top of our 'To Do' list for the trip.

But then, clearly I'm a walking contradiction given the fact that I only knew about the walk from a beautifully illustrated book called 'Top Treks of the World'. That I'd bought. And then day dreamed about when I should have been doing something more productive...

I won't lie, this isn't a get back to nature, leave behind all the crowds kind of place. Thanks to fully catered hosterias along the way, it's set up to be as convenient as possible for anyone willing to lace up a pair of hiking boots and carry a change of clothes. And yet I, like apparently every other hiker compiling a Top Ten list was totally smitten with the place and dare I say it – I loved walking the W!

Which brings me back to why? Well, standing on top of a great big boulder with the word mirador (lookout) painted on it in faded letters and looking out across the Valle Frances, it was pretty clear.

We'd walked a couple of hours initially through the lenga forest where we'd heard the thunder like rumble of ice cracking off the nearby hanging glacier.

Once again we'd sat waiting to see the calving until the fierce Patagonian wind had chilled us enough that we'd had to keep moving.

Slowly the trees grew more sparse and twisted from the effects of the wind that that day had been predicted for around 70km/hour. In some places there was no forest just a round clearing of bare rocks and we contemplated what had happened there. My guess was UFO's.

Hannes' - he who had called us pussies – favourite phrase was 'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God' which he delivered in an unconvincing American accent, at just about everything - sometimes deservedly, but mostly not. Well at the top of the valley, I think all of us muttered some version of his phrase as we took in the 360 degree panorama of shale-capped granite walls with one of the turquoise lakes just visible in the distance.

 But it wasn't just that the Valle Frances was spectacular, it was also so different to the glacier and ice field that was just a day's walk away.

Wind, rain and...Snow?!?
On the fourth day, it was the weathers turn to play games. While marching through the grassy fields, the rain alternated with the sunshine so we'd be throwing off our packs every few minutes to take rain jackets on and off as it would alternatively get hot then cold. Not only was this a great workout for the arms, but a way to make friends with other hikers we'd be camped beside that night. As we alternated passing and being passed when adjusting our gear, we'd share a laugh and a 'See you again in a couple of minutes!' look.

 It wasn't even marked on the map, but when I saw it – or rather, felt it - I knew this was the Paso de los Vientos and it was stunning! A few years earlier my parents had walked this same section of the trail and been in awe of the gusts of wind that had nearly sent them toppling down the steep side of valley into the Ascencio River below.

From the valley we could already partially see the 'towers' that the park is famous for and after another hour of walking we reached the woody campsite that marks the final ascent to the lookout.

Of course everyone hopes for a picture perfect view of the torres, but unfortunately the unpredictable Patagonian weather usually has other ideas. So we thought we were pretty lucky that the mornings showers seemed to have cleared. After setting up camp we decided to go straight to the lookout while the sun was getting a look in, rather than trying for the stunning dawn glimpse which would have required a 4am start. The tables had turned on the pussy stakes you see and it wasn't the Aussies who were firmly committed to being in their sleeping bags at least until after the sun rose!

The hike up to the lookout involved much less actual walking and more clambering over boulders and sliding in every direction on the loose gravel of the badly eroded trail. And the higher we got on the barren hillside, the fiercer the wind became. When we finally reached the top, low lying clouds had blown in, shrouding the towers.

Covered in every warm piece of clothing we'd brought and huddled next to the boulders we waited in the hope that the sun would come out, while we debated weather we were getting a more authentic experience in Patagonia than if it had been a perfect day. While we made ourselves feel better thinking this, the weather decided to give us even more authenticity and it started to snow.

The snow came and went throughout that evening and during the night, so that when we woke the following morning, everything was covered in a light dusting of powder including the tent!

Apart from those who had actually woken before dawn and walked up to the torres to see lots of fog (and the person who took a summer tent with them and was cold during the night) everyone was delighted with the snow. So we went for an exploratory walk which started with lots of photos...

 Then turned to this....

 Some of this.....

Then this....oh yes dear husband, thanks for TAKING PHOTO'S instead of helping. Just for the record, I drew blood!!

And finally...snowmen! Really, who doesn't go a little gaga when there's fresh snow on the ground!

Battle Scars from walking the 'W' with not one, but two Swabians!
After all this play, there wasn't a lot of time to head down the mountain to get the bus back to Puerto Natales.

 But we made it with time to spare. In fact 1 hour and 20 minutes. Technically we still needed to catch a shuttle to the park entrance and the bus to Puerto Natales, which was going to cost 2000 pesos or $4 or 10 euro cents. Big deal right? Well if you're Swabian (from a part of Germany where people are considered to be rather frugal) it is. After all why catch a shuttle when you can walk the extra 7.5km, just like you walked an extra 17.5km to save catching the ferry! Can't hurt can it?!

Well, yes it can. During those last 7.5km I learnt the definition of 'blistering pace'. About half an hour in, Sebastian was joking about his red hot feet as we raced down the road.

By the time we reached the bus, with a couple of minutes to spare, I no longer thought my feet – or him – were particularly funny. For moment all that was forgotten when we got back to Kaweskar (probably the best hostel on earth) and Omar the owner greeted each of us with great big bear hugs!

And then I took off my boots. Aside from the blisters covering the back of each heel that I already knew about, each and every one of my toes, both on the top and bottom had been rubbed raw, along with the front part of the sole. They were already swollen and got bigger during that afternoon and night making it really hard to walk. The upshot was being able to scare others hikers in the hostel who were about to set off on the 'W' by showing them my wounds. Plus I had a legitimate excuse to keeping my feet up while the boys shopped and cooked. For two nights, we feasted, socialised and drank wine and cocktails - the awesome Omar mixed killer pisco sours for us. I did mention that Kaweskar is the best hostel in the world didn't I?

Doing the W! Torres del Paine: Part One

“Ah, you're just pussies,” he said, leaning over the seat as our bus lurched from side to side on the winding road in Torres del Paine National Park. We were twenty minutes away from being dropped off at the ferry that would take us to the start of the W, which we'd planned to walk over four days and three nights.

Five minutes later, it had become a five day hike with at least an extra 17.5km thrown in for good measure. Oh and the company of two German guys. Apparently us Australians are all the same!

At least the decision paid dividends right from the start, even if it meant our carefully calculated food rations would need to be stretched an extra day. At the ferry terminal there had been a lot of commotion as someone had seen a puma. A group of both tourists and park workers gathered at the crest of the road hoping for a glance that didn't materialise. Eventually, after everyone on the bus except for our little group had gathered their things, we continued down the road.

Not far from the terminal another group of employees stood watching the opposite hill. As the bus approached they started pointing frantically, to the spot they were observing. There, blending perfectly into the golden grass, a puma was walking up the hill. As the brakes on bus shrieked into action, she stopped and turned to look down at us. That's when we saw not one, but two of her cubs as they bounded past her and over the crest of the hill.

It was after 12pm when we hit the trail with a projected 8-9 hours of walking ahead of us.

At least the first section which took us straight towards the Paine Massif was easy, providing us an opportunity to work out exactly what we'd gotten ourselves into by joining the crazy Germans.

By the time we reached the section that we'd initially planned to walk that day, most other hikers were already cooking dinner by their tents or sipping wine at their hosteria. That, along with the clear, calm weather was a blessing. When the path emerged from the forest and onto rocky outcrops, we were alone to observe the lake filled with blue icebergs.

In the late afternoon, when we got the first glimpse of Glacier Grey and the enormous ice fields all around, we felt like we'd discovered something amazing.

And when finally I stumbled into the campsite that evening, where the other hikers were already settling into their down sleeping bags, I was convinced that they, not I were pussies.

It gets easier from here...
It did not escape the attention of some of the members of our group, that we were camped just near an enormous glacier. Me? I slept straight through the thunderous noise as chunks of ice broke off the terminal face and slid into the water, to eventually come drifting past the little beach we were camped beside.

In the morning, we went further up the hill to get a better look at Glacier Grey from the campsite we'd hoped to have reached the previous evening. After a bit of a scramble we got to the lookout that sits high above the ice and for over an hour, we admired the deep blue crevasses and waited for the glacier to calve. When they did the chunks of ice seemed miserably small in comparison to the thundering roar, which got us thinking about just how enormous the glacier, the mountains and ice fields beyond, really were.

By the afternoon, when we'd picked up our packs and were headed for the middle of the W, the famous Patagonian wind was in the mood to play. The gusts would come in so strong, that our footsteps would inevitably land everywhere but where we'd intended, giving us the appearance of drunken backpackers stumbling from one side of the path to the other. I'd been warned, but it had always seemed inconceivable that the wind could so casually almost knock us off our feet.

Later in the day and in a seemingly entirely different section of the park the wind eased. Without needing to worry about staying on our feet, we could focus on how much the scenery had changed just from that morning. From rocky cliffs and forest, we we're walking straight towards the heart of the Paine massif, past turquoise glacial lakes and shrubs set aflame with flowers.
 

Finally, not long before night fall, we crossed a very cool suspension bridge over an icy river to reach our campsite in the shelter of the lenga forest. While the Patagonian wind swept through the canopy, I dreamt about the glaciers and mountains I'd gotten a glimpse of upstream.