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:
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!
