Argentina in 40 pictures

Sooo - I wanted to share some of my pics from a great trip, without the classic blunder people make of subjecting their friends to each and every of their 500+ shots.

It was tough, but I narrowed it down to 40. :)



For a larger display, you can just click on the pictures above, or go here.

Hiking FitzRoy & loving El Chalten. Tiny town - big heart.

Whew – from Buenos Aires to Ushuaia, one truly gi-normous glacier to backpacking the Torres Del Paine, my trip way down south was already pretty special.  If for some reason, I had had to fly home at this point, that would be been a pretty successful trip.  That made my last destination sort of a bonus prize – and, to loosely paraphrase the 80’s one hit wonder Vanessa Williams – Argentina always seems to “save the best for last…”

(Short pause for grumbles at me now that you find this song is on permanent mental repeat.  Don’t remember the song?  Click here)

The last leg of my trip took me to Argentina’s newest (and smallest) town – El Chalten, about a three hour bus ride outside of Puerto Moreno.  It has a unique claim to fame – basically springing up out of nothing in 1985 as Argentina was squabbling with Chile over who had the rights to the area.  Politically, being able to point to having some of their citizens living there would help boost the Argentineans’ claim, so voila, a town of 600 people was born just inside the national park.

I simply loved El Chalten.  El Calafate is nice, but it’s sold its soul to mass tourism – with big tour buses and a high street of souvenir shops taking away much of its charm. 

From the first, El Chalten’s small size, coupled with a rustic, “out in the middle of nowhere” vibe really got me.  Wandering the quiet streets, with lots of space between houses, B&B’s, and bars, you can’t help but feel that you’re at the end of the world .  Sure, southernmost town in the world Ushuaia has a better claim geographically, but having 80,000 people, a thriving deep sea port, and an airport does rather diminish the feeling just a bit.

Plus, coming out of backpacking in the windy, windy, and yes, even windier Torres del Paine, El Chalten let me have the best of everything – with long and challenging day hikes, followed by local microbrews, great food, and comfy bed and breakfasts.  Now THAT is awesome.

As our bus rolled into town, we got a great briefing from the park rangers – the long and short was that there were two major sights in the park… Cerro Del Torre and Mt. FitzRoy.  Now, Mt. FitzRoy is the brash big brother of the two; it’s a huge granite peak looming over the town.  Cerro Del Torre takes a bit more effort to see, as it’s tucked demurely behind FitzRoy. 

Both are hugely popular with climbers, but the smaller Torre is legendary for being insanely difficult to summit.  It was finally only accomplished in the 60’s and, even now, it’s so dangerous that prospective climbers have to wait weeks for the perfect trifecta of clear skies, no clouds, and limited wind.  Patagonia, naturally, doesn’t provide these kind of days all that often.  So, the insider’s scoop we heard was that if you could see the tips of Cerro Del Torre peaking over the hills from town, immediately start hiking.  Playing a bit of the shy card, the famous granite peaks are almost always hidden by clouds.

Getting off the bus, and throwing on my heavy rucksack, I was surprised yet again by Patagonia’s winds.  I remember thinking Ushuaia or the Torres were bad – but my first walk to my hotel here saw the unpredictable gusts coming very near to knocking me over.  And, that was with an 50lbs on my back.  Winds 1, Mike 0.

My first day in town, for the lack of a better phrase, I completely sacked out.  Staying at the charming, if difficult to pronounce, Nothofagus B&B, I just wandered the town checking out the various outdoor things to do in the area.  Lonely Planet came to the rescue again when it came time for lunch, as it recommended “La Cerveceria” – a charming little log cabin restaurant that had the welcome bonus of brewing its own beer.  The waitresses there were overwhelmingly hospitable, and the owner/brewmaster even gave me a tour of her brewing operation.  Naturally, I couldn’t help but find myself heading back there every day.  Their recipe for locro - the hearty bean and meat stew that is Argentina’s national dish – that went perfectly with their dark strong beer was hard to resist.

[NOTE – anyone heading to El Chalten, run (don’t walk) immediately to this tasty gem… you’ll not regret it!]

The next day, I started hiking.  Just as with the Torres, I knew that I wanted to start early to catch the early morning light.  Sure, the fantastic folks at the B&B were startled when I asked if I could have my breakfast at the ungodly hour of 5am, but they even set up my breakfast table the night before.  And count on it, dulce de leche (caramel) on rolls is a surefire way to get an energy rush for hiking.

The trailhead was a bit difficult to find actually, as the normally reliable LP let me down.  Their directions promised a short cut from near my hotel, but I had the devil of a time actually locating it.  It would have been ironic to get lost even before leaving town, but thirty minutes of aimless wandering around town finally got me on the trail, and I was off.

The trail was beautiful, especially after the initial steep climb out of El Chalten.  Two hours of hiking took me to the first ridge, and a viewpoint that was, well, really, really pretty:

Just as promised, there were fringes of clouds settled around the tips of the mountain, and I was worried more were on the way.  So, I kept motoring on.

You know, hiking towards a big set of mountains is funny.  It’s not like they’re hidden – and you can see yourself getting closer and closer by the minute.  Yet, when you actually arrive at the final view – it STILL gobsmacks you/takes your breath away/ (insert your favourite expression here). True to form, the tips of the Torres were stuck in a cloud that simply wasn’t going anywhere.

Clambering down the trail, I had the good fortune to have the place entirely to myself.  You see, at 8am, I just knew the day’s first hikers were just leaving town to head up.  But, for the next two hours, I just chilled out, had another breakfast, read, all the while taking in the views.  Not all at the same time, though – that’d be quite the trick.

As the first wave of hikers arrived on the scene, and the clouds were getting worse, I started my hike back.  I figured that was it – a good day in, but the weather wasn’t quite perfect.  Fortunately, about a half hour out, I looked back at the Torres, only to find that (voila!) the view was completely and miraculously clear.

At this point, I had a quick mental argument.  Lazy Mike put forth the position that “Hey, you’ve seen everything except for the teeny tiny tops of the mountains.  Is it really worth another painful hour hiking there and back?”  Photographer Mike, who strangely seemed to have a California surfer accent, merely said a heartfelt “Duuuude.  This is your ONE chance to get some epic shots, bro.”

I placated “Lazy Mike” with a promise of another beer and locro at La Cervezeria, then legged it back to the lake.  And, for the next hour, I was in heaven, with vistas like these:

Now, as I’m still completely enamored of this 360 app on my iPhone – click here for the panoramic view.

Lovely.

On the way back, I passed many, many, many hikers coming in – making me glad once again for the painfully early start at 5am.  And, arriving at El Chalten by 2:00, I realized another advantage – even with loads of faffing around to read and take pics, I still had much of the day to just hang out in a cool small town.  Perfect.

Dinner was a protein feast in true carnivoire style at a super informal parrilla, and then it was an early night to get ready for yet another “yawn-o’clock” start – this time Mt. FitzRoy.

I’ll cut to the chase.  The trail up to FitzRoy – Laguna de los Tres – was quite simply one of the most stunning hikes I’ve ever seen.  My good weather luck was holding, as sleepily stumbling out of my hotel the next morning, I had yet more crystal clear skies greet me, so I was pretty excited.

Of course, dulce de leche’s sugar rush and excitement only lasted so long; the first hour and a half was spent going up and up.  There was a sweet payoff, of course, as I got to the first ‘mirador’ (vista point):

The middle half of the hike was pretty easy – a nice amble through rolling terrain, with Mt. FitzRoy loomed ever larger.  I didn’t find myself tired, either, less due to any great fitness than the fact that I kept stopping to take pictures – with FitzRoy in front of you, it never gets old.

Now, I have to ‘fess up – when I finished the preliminaries, and arrived at the Camp Poincenot  campground at the base of the mountain, I was getting a tiny bit cocky.  Shoot, that wasn’t so hard, was it?  And hey, there’s just one short steep slope to go… 30 minutes left, tops.

Yeah… not quite.

That short slope was indeed steep, but when I got to the “top”, a trick of the terrain surprised me with an even steeper and longer climb ahead.  It turned into a rough one hour, following switchback after switchback.  And it’s a pet peeve but man, I really hate these things.  Sure, they make a daunting ascent trail doable, but there’s something frustrating about this sort of path – you cover lots of distance, but have the frustration of feeling like you’re barely gaining any elevation.

But hey, even more than the Cerro Del Torre, the views just made everything worthwhile.

For the first 30 minutes I was completely alone in this enclosed alpine bowl, feeling very, very small as Mt. FitzRoy loomed over me.  Even a scramble up the ridge behind didn’t change the perspective much – FitzRoy is B-I-G.

My timing in Argentina’s spring was fortunate in another way.  I got the best of both worlds, with warm-ish temperatures making the ascent easy and safe, yet there was still snow dusting FitzRoy  and it gazed down on a frozen Laguna de los Tres.  Beautiful.

There was some evidence that stupidity is universal - as I saw footprints heading far out across the lake.  (Don't worry Mom - this wasn't me!) This late in the season, especially after an abnormally warm spell, there simply would be no way you could persuade me to do that!

Looking back, the views were incredible.  You could see back into El Chalten, as well as for miles in every direction – click here for the 360. (scroll left and right)

By this point, the wind had picked up, but some nice folks in the past had erected a windbreak out of stones.  What better way to have breakfast and a read?

Now, heading back was fun.  First, it was almost entirely downhill, which does wonders for tired legs.  Second, I could see a steady stream of hikers heading up – which meant I had left at just the right time.  With more than a bit of schadenfreude, I had the lovely feeling you get travelling on the other side of the road from a traffic jam.   I had had near-perfect quiet… they would share the crowds.

And of course, the thoughts of locro and beer drove me on, so that I was actually jogging on the final downhills, which might have startled some folks trudging their way up.

Now, after FitzRoy, my good fortune with the weather ran out.  My last full day in town was rainy, gusty and just plain nasty.  I had had some vague plans of hiking up another peak to get views of both Cerro del Torre and FitzRoy, but with weather like this, guilt-free, I moved into a pretty swank new hotel and just lazed around.  A morning in a cozy café, a nap, and some blogging – it was a good day.  I even got to use El Chalten’s only heated pool and sauna in my hotel to help the muscles recover.  Sweeeet.

Finally, it was time to go – I caught the bus back to El Calafate, and killed some time in town before a late afternoon flight out to Buenos Aires.  Once again BA showed that the two of us weren’t really meant for each other – as a surprise rain storm caused a run for taxis at the airport.  BA’s domestic airport has no other direct transit links to town, so it was 2.5 hours before I finally head into town, and drop my stuff at a hostel. 

With one night left in country, you’d think I might have checked out another parrilla or other Argentine fixture.  Nah, you’d be way off.  Knowing that there was my favourite supremely tasty taqueria not 500 yards away, and this was my last chance to get a Mexican food fix before going back to Luxembourg, I literally shrugged off my backpack in my room, turned around, and headed out to make it before closing.   Four tacos pastor later, and I was ready to call it a night and look forward to a return flight on my not quite favorite airline, Alitalia. 

Hey, 13 hours later, wonder of wonders, my luggage actually showed up back at Frankfurt – a nice surprise ending to an unforgettable trip!

Towers of Pain (Paine) & One Huge Chunk of Ice

Like a kid before Christmas, I was getting more and more excited as I caught my flight out of Ushuaia, heading to El Calafate.  The tourist center for Patagonia, El Calafate is the jumping off point for checking out the jewels of Patagonia’s national parks – the soaring granite spires of the Torres Del Paine and Mt. FitzRoy.  I was initially torn between which amazing place to see first, but following  the rave reviews from my kayaking companion back in Ushuaia, I figured I’d hike the Torres, then save Mt. FitzRoy to end my trip.

The only slight problem is that most of the tourists in town had the same idea, so the daily bus across the Chilean border was fully booked , and I was only able to get a spot two days later.

Right, so the good news was that El Calafate is more than just a transit stop.  It’s also the closest town to the mighty Puerto Moreno glacier – so I immediately booked a spot on a tour that promised an alternative to the standard “bus ‘em in, pick ‘em up” itinerary for most package tourists, and it didn’t disappoint. 

Leaving bright, yawn, and early @ 7am, we had a bonus early stop at Estancia Alice – one of the sprawling  ranches that eke out a living raising hardy sheep in Patagonia.

Isolated and miles from anywhere, I can only imagine what life must be like for the inhabitants in the winter.  Cold temperatures and howling winds that are only marginally slowed by the odd tree or goat, it would be brisk indeed.  Fortunately for us, we got a rare day of sun, and got to make friends with the local goats and guanacos – a local cousin to the llama.

Okay, so that was nice and all, but the ranch served as a mere appetizer for our actually seeing the glacier.  The tour promised to take us off the beaten path, and it lived up to its billing, as we stopped about 10 km away from the main tourist destination for a hike.  Winding down the hillsides and along the lake shore, we were treated to our first view of the distant glacier:

After the hike, we pulled into the main HQ, and I had a few hours to wander the labyrinth of wooden walkways facing the glacier across the water.  The perspective was daunting – there’s nothing like miles of ice looming above you to remind you of your tiny place in the world!

No matter how wide your lens is, it's never enough to capture the scale of the glacier... here's a panorama that does a bit better:  http://360.io/8r68fx

As glaciers go, Puerto Moreno is interesting for a number of reasons.  First, it’s big – really big.  It’s also one of the few glaciers that are actually still growing these days, and this growth leads to the coolest part.  The glacier moves along at a decidedly non-glacial pace for a looming hunk of compressed snow and ice - each day, it moves a blistering 2 meters, and this motion creates friction and stress at the front edge.

Yawn… so what does that mean for the tourist?  I was lucky enough to get to see this:

Returning to town, I stocked up on supplies for my upcoming backpacking trip.  Then, (cough) purely for, ah, health reasons to stock up on protein, I hit up a  restaurant with a genius concept - an all you can eat meat.  Genius – with lamb, chorizo, and lots of lomo (steak), and now fussing much with trivialities like bread or veggies, I waddled out two hours later and slowly ambled back to my hostel.

The next day, we rolled across the Chilean border after a surprisingly strict agricultural inspection – stiff fines were threatened if we had so much as an apple in our bags.  I stayed at Lili Patagonico's hostel – and got a world-class briefing of the hiking options for the park.

The main draw of the Torres Del Paine is hiking the “W” – a route that takes you up to the Torres Del Paine during the day, and then back around and up another valley, before finishing at a glacier.  I had to adjust it a bit due to time constraints – so could only do parts.

[Oh, and a quick word to Chile about your currency.  Just a modest proposal…  could y’all really take  off a few zeros?  With an exchange rate of 500 pesos to the dollar, your prices just sound absolutely ridiculous… ESPECIALLY as they also use the $ sign.  Talk about sticker shock to enter the park:

And ATM’s… every visit was a surprise math test, as I double and triple checked my conversion calculations – a misplaced decimal point could have meant severe pain to the bank account.]

At the trailhead, with tent, sleeping bag, and even a small flask of bourbon weighing me down, I started up the W.  A chance encounter with a nice couple from Seattle helped pass the time as we chatted, slogging up the consistently steep path before four hours brought me to my campsite at Camp Torres – complete with a bubbling alpine stream as a companion.

The Torres are tricky to see as a tourist – you’re often lucky to get even a glimpse of them without being hidden by clouds.  So, as the weather was still holding out for me - once my tent was up, I scrabbled up the steep paths leading up the final rocky slope.  Painful?  Sure.  But it turned out to be well worth it, when I got to see this:

My afternoon visit was good, but the overcast sky and constant wind-caused mini-avalanches made the summit a dusty and cold place to be.

The next morning was much, much better.  I followed some very good advice – I woke up at 4:45am and had a brief internal argument about the merits of sleeping in.  Fortunately, sleeping in lost – and coming out of the treeline, I got to see a beautiful sunrise.

The Torres were even better this time around.  I found a good spot down right by the water’s edge, and just enjoyed the slowly brightening view.  Once again, when it counted, Patagonia blessed me  with stunningly clear weather.

When the light finally broke across the Torres – it was stunning, as we few photographers sharing the view were treated to golden reflections reaching across the water, until finally the entire valley was bathed in golden sunlight.

Here’s a link to a panoramic view I took – just click and scroll to see the whole vista: http://360.io/NEvnES

Tempting as it was, I couldn’t stay there forever, so packed up and hit the trail back down.  I was looking at a 10 hour day altogether, and was happy indeed to see this sign announcing an "atajo" (shortcut) which promised to lop off an hour:

This part of the hike was a nice change – with none of the constant steam of day hikers, I had the trail mostly to myself.

Still, I was pretty happy to finally wind my way to the refugio (basic trail hostel).  Taking off my boots, indulging in a hot shower, and drinking first a beer, then several tasty pisco sours – life was good. 

Now, the idea was to leave early, and head up the valley at the middle part of the ‘W’ in the morning, in time to catch the 6pm ferry/bus combination to head back to Puerto Natales.  And truly, I did have that in mind setting off.  It wasn’t long though before I realized that my legs were still feeling the efforts of the last two days.  That, coupled with the arrival of rapidly worsening weather, and it wasn’t much of a struggle to change plans – and just find somewhere warm and dry.  So, from a “W”, I ended up doing a much easier “L”.

Four hours of trudging with intense wind-blown rain in my face, and I was more than happy to find myself changing clothes with a series of hot cappuccinos in hand.  True, I was a bit disappointed not to see the views of the other granite peaks in the park called the Cerros – but the valley was completely socked in by clouds, so at least I wouldn’t have seen much anyways.

I celebrated the end of the hike with a surprisingly tasty pizza at the traditional post-trail restaurant La Mesita Grande town, and the next morning, it was time to head back to El Calafate.  Getting off the bus, I took stock with a delicious local porter at my favourite stop - Borges y Alvarez Libro-Bar, before heading off to a lamb feast at the town’s famous parrilla called La Tablita.

Torres Del Paine – painful sure, but an amazing hiking destination.  Great weather and views meant I was a happy camper indeed.  Little did I know that my last stop of El Chalten would soon prove to be even better!

Reaching the End of Every Road in Ushuaia

Loud and brash, Buenos Aires was grand, but the whole reason for my trip was to leave the big city and head for the big mountains.  In Argentina, that means Patagonia – the huge region that encompasses the southern part of this vast country.

(Random trivia time – Argentina is the 8^th largest country in the world.  Coming from Luxembourg on the other side of the spectrum as the 6^th smallest, the sheer scale of the place takes some getting used to.)

Logistics-wise, actually having a job during this trip meant that I was able to hop on a 3 hour flight – instead of 72 hour bus ride.  Thank YOU Kabam!

Now, Buenos Aires was pretty fun, but overall, I still was feeling a bit let down by my trip.  I didn’t really click with BA; I’m not a partier, and with my fun luggage issues along with some examples of the locals being pretty pushy, it meant that I was still waiting to be completely in holiday mode.

And thankfully, Ushuaia came at the nick of time.   The southernmost town in the world, it is the jumping off point for trips to Antartica.  Surrounded by perpetually snow-capped mountains, it’s also a playground for anyone who loves being in nature – with hiking, trekking, and kayaking to boot.  Perfect.

My flight in was sketchy.  A three hour flight from Buenos Aires ended with our approach taken us between soaring mountain peaks, and then with a sharp right turn to the airfield.  The pilots on this run definitely earn their keep here – as gusty winds come swirling off the Beagle Channel and mountains – making even a routine landing… interesting, and a success prompted a wave of relieved applause.

I got sorted at a pretty cool hostel called Freestyle – with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the water – and then started planning my stay here.   This is where luck smiled on me – as while all of the daily tourist excursions were really tame (the most extreme water activity I found included a grand total of 45 minutes on a river in an inflatable canoe… yawn), I ended up finding an agency who had a customer looking to do more fun stuff.  Hiring a guide as a solo traveller is egregiously expensive, but with two people it actually works out.  So, I signed up for a full day kayaking trip as well as an ice hike, and then called it a day with a tasty locally brewed stout beer.

My first full day saw me hitting the trail at the Ushuaia National Park – a gorgeous expanse of forests, somewhat sheltered bays (well, as calm as Ushuaia’s winds allow!), and snow-capped mountains.  The coastal path was a great introduction, meandering around a peninsula and back into the local park headquarters, with stunning views of mountains at every turn.

One of the highlights of the hike had to be the naturally curious caracara that found me at lunch.  I was taking a break by the bay when a striking large bird of prey landed nearby and started scooting closer.  He wasn’t interested in the food, but just kept checking me and the other hikers out.  As a bonus, he even played nice for the camera:

Back in town, I followed the recommendation of the friendly girl at the travel agency – eating at Chiko’s – a locals-only place that served up a tasty Argentinean seafood stew alongside yet another nice glass of malbec.

After heading back to the hostel that night, I came to those defining turning points as a traveller.  Most backpackers go through a few distinct phases as they get older.  There’s the “save money at all costs” approach of the college student, who loves the thought of sharing a 12 person dorm room.  Most travellers migrate into steadily improving rooms – but still embrace the hostel concept, sharing rooms with others so they have more money for more important things… like beer.

But, eventually, most folks get tired of the inevitable pain and suffering sharing rooms with total strangers bring.  Every backpacker has their share of stories about horror roommates, and I’m no different.  Lovely Ushuaia took it to whole new level, and probably made me swear off shared rooms for good.

The reason?  I crashed at 11:30, only to awoken by an idiot turning the lights on to noisily browse his things before bed.  Fine.  That happens.  But at 2am, I woke up again to… uh… some overly affectionate activities by my two male roommates.

Seriously.

Let’s just say I was suitably inspired to vow never, never, EVER do the shared hostel thing.  Sheesh - an extra 20 Euros a night is well worth the peace of mind.

Annnnd, back to the fun stuff - the next day dawned bright and clear.  I met up with Marine, a cool French girl from Paris, and our kayaking guide Danny – and we headed out for a day of paddling on the Beagle Channel.

What an absolutely awesome day.  Sure, it was a butt-kicker, as my shoulders quickly informed me that a daily routine of mouse-clicking in the office wasn’t really training for this sort of thing.  But, aches and pains quickly faded to the background, as we got to explore a series of small islands in the bay.

Danny was a font of interesting information during lunch; we even compared notes as the Falklands issue.  Turns out he was a teenager in the Argentine army, and only avoided action due to his unit getting laid low by a nasty illness.  Danny was blunt - saying that it was almost criminal to send a poorly-trained force to the islands purely to keep the Argentine population distracted from domestic troubles.

Back on the water, we got lucky - the wind and waves were calm enough for Danny to let us risk paddling to an exposed island, home to a colony of sea lions.

Now, my experience with these guys had been limited to admiring them laze in the sun off Pier 39 in San Francisco.  Cute, sleek, and playful – your instinctive reaction was an “awww”…

That was vastly different to the feeling I got as we got closer to the island.  Our tiny kayak eventually got to about 30 feet away – and it was amazing to see the sea lions so close.  They started to get a little nervous and about a dozen came into the water – where we felt a whole lot more vulnerable in our tiny fiberglass boat. 

However, it was only when we saw one of the heavily maned, big, and fairly grumpy males start looking like he wanted to make our acquaintance up close in the water that we decided to call it a day. 

The rest of the trip was equally cool – we got swarmed by a huge flock of quarrelling seabirds, and had the chance to land on an island and hike up for the 360 degree views of the mountains around  Ushuaia.

The last leg of the trip was brutal.  We had to paddle in the face of strong afternoon winds and waves for about two hours to get back to town.  My shoulders had cooperated up to now, but they were definitely making their displeasure known (and felt!) – but like a Homer Simpon-esque champion, I kept powering on – fuelled by dreams of that first amazing taste of a post-paddle beer.  "Beer...", *paddle*, "beer!", *paddle*, and so on.

Marine and I teamed up for a hike the next day, as we took the trail up to Cerro Guanaco – a 900m peak in the national park.  As a bonus, we got to stop at the 'end of the road' - literally.  The Pan-American Highway, stretching from Alaska to Argentina over 10,000 miles, ended here... it really highlighted the feeling of being at the bottom of world.

On the trail, we again lucky with superb weather as we started out, and we headed up, up, and up the trail.  The views just kept getting better, especially as we passed from the forest to the exposed mountain slopes.

The plan was to eventually get to the summit – but the conditions didn’t cooperate.  The trail eventually trailed off into a 12” wide path of loose rock meandering across a sheer face.  Add in snow, ice, and more and more gusts of wind, and both Marine and I decided to play it safe – the last 50 meters from the summit were seriously dodgy – and one slip would mean a long and probably unhealthy exposure to the wonders of gravity.

Back at the base camp, we found out that the trail was actually marked closed for exactly those reason – whoops!

My last full day in Ushuaia was the most memorable, if also the most terrifying.  Marine and I had signed up for a full day guided hike up another summit – with the prospect (I thought) of a bit of snow-shoeing up the top.

No sweat I figured – a non-technical hike… I can handle that.

It was only as our guide unpacked our gear that I found out that instead of going up with snowshoes, we’d be climbing with crampons, rope, and ice axes.  For you children of the 80’s – my reaction was pretty much like Scooby-Doo spotting a ghost… “ruh-ro!”

But what the heck – I was committed, so figured I’d give it the ol’ college try.  Our hike took us through a mile of soggy peat bogs, then past a series of beaver dams.  It was pretty amazing seeing all of the changes a family of beavers can wreak on the land – the forest was a series of stumps, and half-gnawed logs.

That was fun – but it was time to start going up, and up, and up some more. 

By this point, we were only halfway up.  Another hour of climbing to the snow line, and we then put on the  crampons and hauled out the ice axes to start our ascent up.  The training was brief - "this is how you walk, and oh, if you slip, just fall down so that point of the axe digs in the snow."  I was never exactly sure how I'd pull this off instinctively if I started careening down the slope.  'course, our guide did have us secured by a rope as well, but let's just say that I was more than a bit antsy.

Fleeting thoughts of mortality aside, the views were absolutely stunning.  As we slowly inched our way up nearly vertical slopes, we got to take in vistas that took your breath away.  (Sorry, that took whatever breath I had as I wheezed my way up, one sloooow step at a time.)

And finally, just when I was thinking my burning muscles were about done, we reached the summit.

We were fortunate again - the wind died down to nothing, and the skies were crystal clear.  My big camera's battery died from the cold, but I got to use my iPhone's cool new app (360 Panorama) for, well, panoramic shots:

http://360.io/9qTLkC (you can move left and right to see the whole view)

Gorgeous.

Thankfully, gravity was our friend on the way down.  It WAS scary starting off - as the least experienced, I got to lead the three of us, with our guide bracing us at the rear.  That very first step - convincing yourself that walking from a flat surface back down a super steep slope was a good idea - was dicey.  On the plus side, the views were awesome - and we got to enjoy walking towards them with each step.  The minor bad news?  The rows of mountains stretching into the distance reminded me of exactly how much empty space was around, and how far it'd be if we slipped.  Yikes.

Six hours up, and four hours down - that was a long, yet absolutely fantastic day.  When we got back to down, we had surprisingly good tacos and a big glass of wine, and then I was absolutely dead to the world.  A nice sleep in, and I took a short flight over to El Calafate to start the 'main' part of my trip - Torres Del Paine and FitzRoy National Parks!