BACK TO PATAGONIA––ALL TALK [PART 2]

On the road in Patagonia

As described in Part 1:
Why does Patagonia 2007 come to mind now in 2017?  I had been invited to give a talk to the Green Mountain Club in Middlebury about Patagonia.  Even though our trip took place ten years ago now, places like this don't change much.  Descriptions today would be the same as they were then.  Yet, imagine: in 2007 Facebook was a new thing and iPads didn't exist. I didn't yet write a blog. We didn't live in Vermont.  Four more years would pass until then.  So here I am in Patagonia again, as if it just happened.  

(I could add that because of a mix-up of cords and computer systems at the Middlebury venue my photos had to be presented haphazardly.  So I am making up for that here.)

So, to continue...

THE SECOND TREK:  TORRES DEL PAINE, CHILE



We took a bus from El Calafate to Puerto Natales were we met our next hiking group which was comprised of seven of us hikers, including Bill from our first trek, and two local guides, Mauricio and Carola.

Architecture in Puerto Natales; many of the smaller buildings had walls of tin.

Our first day was a day of warnings:  the weather could be very bad we were told, and we should be prepared for the wind.  We were already aware of wind as we were buffeted by it everywhere we went.  Doors to restaurants had to be pulled open with force against the gales.  Our guides took us to a hilltop outside of town, not far from the Mylodon Cave where in 1895 the remains of a giant sloth were found.  There we experienced the wind in full force, about 50 miles an hour; we needed to hold onto a large rock in order to stand upright.  It was intimidating.  We were also the oldest duo in our group.  That was also intimidating.

On our first night at the less-than-luxury Francis Drake Hotel (the lights kept going out) Ken decided to take a walk after dinner.  I stayed in.  When he came back over an hour later he told me he had forgotten where we were staying and had been disoriented.  Luckily, though, he saw a landmark of some kind and found his way back. This was very unsettling to us both.  We knew something was going on in his mind, and this might be a hint of what was to come.  It was.  But on this night, after some worrying talk about it, we put it aside.  For the remainder of our trip all was well.  With hindsight, I see in this the beginnings of a forgetfulness that grew slowly until it speeded up in 2016.

Back to our adventures.

A product of the wind

The "W" circuit is one of the world's great hikes.  The distance from one end to the other is approximately 71 kilometers (44 miles) and takes five days to complete.  The hiking is not difficult, but each day's hike was lengthy, beginning about 9 in the morning and ending about 3 or 4 in the afternoon.  As we had arranged this hike, like our first trek, through a Montana company called Adventure-Life, we had no need for tents.  Everything was pre-arranged.  We stayed in comfortable refugios each night where we had dinner (with wine, if we wanted) and breakfast.  As it happened, we were exceedingly fortunate as there was no significant wind and every day brought sunshine.  Just the week before several people had been blown off the trail.

We hiked the "W" circuit (in red) starting by crossing Lago Grey and ending at the towers.

We crossed Lago Grey by boat to the far shore where we began our first day's hike, coming close to the glacier with its improbable beautiful blue color.  (The compressed ice absorbs all colors of the spectrum except blue.)

Three of our group by the chilly waters of Lago Grey

We sailed past this beautiful glacier at the head of Lago Grey

Since we had no need to make camp, our backpacks were light.  We carried extra clothing, personal effects, camera equipment, and the lunches that had been prepared for us.  Legs of the trek are generally planned from refugio to refugio.  Since it is possible to take boat trips across the lake, some refugios are accessible to non-hikers.  This undoubtedly accounted for the large crowd in the bar and restaurant area our first night.

We had lunch in lovely places.  Sandwiches had been prepared for us.

We were often in sight of the lakes

Chilean firebush in the foreground

An Andean condor overhead

Male torrent duck; there were also several ducklings swimming nearby.  I feared for their safety in the
turbulent water until I learned they were "torrent ducks" that thrived in fast water.

Guide Carola, hiking companion June, Ken and I in front of our incredibly comfy refugio cabin, with views to die for!

The view from our refugio cabin with our first sighting of Los Cuernos (The Horns)

At our goal at last:  the granite Torres del Paine, with our group on the last day of our trek

Our final trekking day, after Los Cuernos Pass, the French Valley, Mirador Gray, we had our most strenuous hike with a big loss of elevation before our steepest climb up to the towers.  Then we had to retrace our steps on the last part of the "W" to Eco Camp, but Eco Camp rewarded us by being the loveliest refugio of all at which to spend our last couple of days.

Inside each dome at Eco Camp was a big bed covered in sheepskins; there was a cozy shower tent and food and drink tent.

Now that the trek had ended our group had some time to explore other areas of Torres del Paine.

A Patagonian fox

Guanacos, parent species of domesticated llamas, were a common sight.

A rhea; there were about a dozen chicks which meant this was the father, not mother!

Gauchos we happened across.

Some attractive ground cover with interestingly fragmented rocks in the background.

Looking back at Los Cuernos

This photo of Los Cuernos was recently posted on Facebook by David Albert, our
guide in Glacier National Park in Argentina.  He finally got to Torres del Paine.
(see BACK TO PATAGONIA––ALL TALK, PART 1)

SOUTHWARD TO CAPE HORN

On the road again, from Puerto Natales to Punta Arenas by bus

From Punta Arenas, Chile, on the Magellan Strait, we would sail to Ushuaia, Argentina.

Torres del Paine means "Blue Towers" in the native Tehuelche language, Tehuelche being the generic name given to a group of indigenous peoples of Patagonia.  It means "fierce people."  Unsurprisingly, there is no sign of these "fierce people" today.  It was after this second trek that we ended up in Punta Arenas where one of the points of interest is a cemetery with a statue of the Indio Desconocido, the unknown Indian, representing, sadly, the last of his kind.  Ironically, this long-dead representative of a long disappeared people is credited with being the source of present day miracles.

It all began when a young boy died on an island near Punta Arenas.  Several years after his death small tokens were found near his grave.  These grew in number over the years to such an extent that in the 1930's his body was exhumed, and he was reburied in the Punta Arenas cemetery along with a commemorative statue.  The "little Indian" (Indiecito) is surrounded by signs of gratitude and adorned by fresh flowers.

After a few days in Punta Arenas ("Sandy Point") we boarded a ship with the evocative name of Via Australis that would take us through the Magellan Strait, the Beagle Channel, and around Cape Horn, barring bad weather.  

Punta Arenas, looking over Magellan Strait, oil tanker in the background.  This is the southernmost city in Chile.

Although it originated as a penal colony for Chile, Punta Arenas was pleasant, had some good restaurants, and a good maritime museum.  We saw a film at the museum about the last commercial sailing ship to round Cape Horn.  To my surprise it was produced by the Mystic Seaport Museum in Connecticut from where I later managed to get a copy.  The ship was a German one, and the film's narrator, an American sailor, had to learn the name of some 350 ropes–in German.  The captain, who had rounded the Horn many times before, liked to test the seamen by naming a rope and having the new seamen race to locate it before the last man's rear end was bitten by the captain's dog.

Life aboard the Via Australis was utter luxury (and didn't come cheap):  excellent food, free drinks and food all day long, and constant beautiful views from every side.  There were daily zodiac trips to shore for short hikes and glacier viewing.  By now we had seen so many glaciers we were almost jaded. What we did not see were other ships or people or signs of civilization.  There are three small town in this area but they are tiny, serving either Antarctic tourism or military personnel.

One of the innumerable glaciers on the Beagle Channel

Although the sky often look threatening and complicated, the weather was moderate.

Elephant seals in the foreground, our ship in the background.

Kelp geese, the female speckled black, the male white.

Magellanic penguins.  

We dogged Darwin's steps in much of this trip.  He spent quite a bit of time in Patagonia, weeks at a time exploring the flora and fauna on land.  The Beagle anchored in Wulaia Bay not far from Ushuaia, Argentina, where we stopped at what had once been a Yagana settlement.  The Yagana were a subgroup of the Tehuelche people.  Darwin described this place and Captain Fitzroy sketched it.

Beautiful Wulaia Bay, our ship where the Beagle once anchored.

We were lucky again with the weather.  Although there were swells, the sea was calm and so we would be able to not just go around Cape Horn, we would be able to land.  There is no "horn" on this cape; it was named by a Dutch seaman after his home town of Hoorn.  Cape Horn is actually an island.  As for the ''Fuegos" of Terra del Fuego or land of fire, these were nothing more than coastal campfires made by the local Indians.  Observations became exotic tales in the retelling in those early days.  By the time travelers returned home so many months or even years later, their memories had become tales of adventure for rapt audiences.

The captain invited us to the bridge as we rounded the Horn.  He turned on some Wagner at high volume as we did so.
It was a thrilling moment.

Besides the lighthouse station there is a small contingent of Chilean soldiers stationed here.  Lonely duty, for sure.

The albatross sculpture was placed here atop the only hill in the 1990's along with a poem that I didn't bother to copy.

A view of Ushuaia, Argentina, our final stop.  The mountains here are probably only around 6,000 feet tall although they look like alps.  Shortly after I took this photo the weather became overcast. We caught a flight back to Buenos Aires.

BACK TO PATAGONIA ––ALL TALK [PART 1]

A bit of graffiti in Puerto Natales, Chile.  I'll explain later about the footprint.

It was November of 2007, and we were in Patagonia.  Before that Ken and I had spent a week in Buenos Aires.  There we stayed at an inn in the Tango District, a few blocks from where Che (real name Ernesto) Guevara grew up.  Went to local milongas (local tango dances), visited the Palermo district, museos, and sampled various parillas (steakhouses)––all that.

Why does Patagonia 2007 come to mind now in 2017?  I had been invited to give a talk to the Green Mountain Club in Middlebury about Patagonia.  Even though our trip took place ten years ago now, places like this don't change much.  Descriptions today would be the same as they were then.  Yet, imagine: in 2007 Facebook was a new thing and iPads didn't exist.  I didn't yet write a blog.  We didn't live in Vermont.  Four more years would pass until then.  So here I am in Patagonia again, as if it just happened.  

(I could add that because of a mix-up of cords and computer systems at the Middlebury venue my photos had to be presented haphazardly.  So I am making up for that here.)

After Buenos Aires, our trip began at the top (Neuquen) of Patagonia and ended at the bottom  (Cape Horn)

The first European explorers of the area we now call Patagonia observed that the indigenous people were taller than the average Europeans of the time.  Their description morphed in no time as tales were told by other explorers like Francis Drake, turning them into "giants," perhaps nine to twelve feet tall, and having big feet.  When Magellan visited Patagonia in 1520 he might as well have been visiting Mars, so remote was this area.  In a Spanish chivalry novel published in 1512 and hugely popular there was a character named Patagón, a giant who wore fur for clothing, was barefoot, and ate raw meat. Well, here he was in the flesh, in a land of barefoot giants. The name Patagonia stuck. It is arguably the only region in the world with a discrete identity, yet consisting of two distinct countries.


 NORTHERN PATAGONIA: THE ESTANCIA

Estancia Rio Quillén, near Neuquen, Argentina, in northern Patagonia.  The main lodge is visible on the hill.
Volcano Lanin in Chile is in the background.

The estancia where we spent nearly a week consists of some 75,000 acres, not an unusual size in this sparsely populated part of the world.  (On the drive from the airport near Neuquen to Rio Quellén we spent about half an hour driving past land owned by Ted Turner, the largest landholder in Patagonia.)  This is an Eden of trout fishing and horses.  Everyone drinks maté.

Beautiful trout caught by Ken in the estancia's river; it was still early season for fishing

Pablo, the estancia's new manager and horse whisperer

Pablo leads us on a ride.  Saddles here (typically gaucho saddles) are not one piece: they consist of layers of blanket,
sheepskins and leather sections.  Rein handling is casual and one-handed.

We saw stands of monkey puzzle trees on hillsides.  They are a native evergreen.

It was early spring in this part of Patagonia, the equivalent of our early May.  The weather is better here in general than further south where the oceans converge on both sides and the continent narrows and begins to break into peninsulas and islands.  A ten day weather forecast for Puerto Natales, our next goal, might typically read much like this:  rain showers every day, temperature around 50 degrees, wind 30 miles an hour.  The notable statistic is wind; we're talking about a steady 30 miles per hour, with gusts likely to be higher.  This is the windiest town I have ever visited.  

Here we saw our first lenticular cloud of the trip.  Essentially turbulent eddies, they are not unusual in this part of the world.

THE FIRST TREK:  GLACIER NATIONAL PARK, ARGENTINA

A drive took us to Bariloche,  a jumping off point for Andean skiing, with, appropriately, a touch of Swiss architecture.  From here we boarded a flight to El Calafate, Chile.  The windy town of El Calafate, a tourist center,  is a major hub for hiking outfitting and R&R.  It was here we met David Albert, our guide for our first trek in Glacier National Park.  And we picked up Bill Kan, our fellow hiker.



David Albert, besides being a guide for ordinary hikers like ourselves, is also a well-known technical climber and professional photographer.  It was only after our hike together that I found his photos sold as postcards and discovered a book of his Patagonia photographs.  Why did he bother with us?  It was simple:  neither his photography nor his climbing gave him much of an income, and he had a family to support, a wife and young son. Up to this point he had never even managed to leave Argentina.  He told us he hoped one day to climb in Chile's Torres del Paine National Park where we three (Bill, Ken and I) were shortly to be headed.  It was only recently that I learned via Facebook (we are still in touch via FB) that he has at last managed to get there.  His family and all his friends are also climbers.  David added another dimension to our trek. We three considered ourselves very fortunate to spend time with him.




On our way with David and Bill we drove to El Chaltèn, a small town at the foot of the mountains at the edge of Glacier National Park.  En route we made a stop for lunch at a roadhouse called La Leona.  In the early 1900's this part of Patagonia was like the USA's wild west.  On February 14, 1905, two "gringo" bandits held up a bank in Rio Gallegos, a town on the coast, many miles away across vast empty plains.  They had escaped on horseback with a sum that would be US $100,000 today.  For almost a month they hid out at La Leona; three names were inscribed in the register:  Robert Parker (Butch Cassidy), Henry Longabaugh (the Sundance Kid) and Emma Place.

Except for its claim to fame (refuge for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) there's not much to see at La Leona, but it's about the only building in sight on an otherwise empty plain.

El Chaltén where we began our first trek, has dirt roads, hiking supply shops, food, drink and lodging.

Entering El Chaltén

Ken and Bill in downtown El Chaltén

The weather was not promising.  It was cold and damp and the night brought snow.  I was worried about our hike.

We left at dawn.  It was cold, but the sky was clear.

Do I look stressed?  I was overdressed; it would warm up soon and the snow would vanish.
But I didn't know that yet.

Our hike took us from El Chaltén to Cerro Torre and Rio Electrico in the NW corner.
Later we would visit (via bus) Perito Moreno glacier in the SW corner.

The next morning we hiked to Cerro Torre.  But first we had to cross the Fitzroy River.

The easy part is heading down over the river.  Pulling yourself uphill on the other side is harder.

This is the sight that awaited us as we came around a huge bend.  Cerro Torre is the pointed peak in the middle.

David told us this story:  Cerre Torre, nearly 10,000 feet high, experienced its first conquest attempt in 1959 when Italian climber Cesare Maestri claimed he and his companion Toni Egger had reached the summit.  Unfortunately Egger was swept to his death by an avalanche while they were descending.  Maestri declared that only Egger had a camera with pictures of the summit, but the camera was never found.  There were other inconsistencies in Maestri's account and his claim was suspect.

Cerro Torre.  The ice "mushroom" can be seen on the top.

Maestri returned to Cerro Torre in 1970, trying a new route on the southeast face.  With the aid of a gas-powered compressor drill he equipped 350 meters of rock with bolts and got to the end of the rocky part of the mountain, just below the ice mushroom at the top.  Maestri claimed that "the mushroom is not part of the mountain" and did not continue to the summit.  He left the compressor drill, still tied to the last bolts 100 meters below the top, behind him.  The route he followed is now called the "compressor route" and was climbed by others to the actual summit in 1979.

A lenga forest.  Lenga trees (a type of beech) are the dominant tree in lowland forest in the south.

Ken, standing by an unusually large lenga

Our best view of the Fitzroy Massif.  It was named after the captain of Darwin's ship, the Beagle.

We camped for four more days.  Our hiking was leisurely, without steep climbs, and lasted for some five or six hours each day.  At the end of our final day of hiking Ken's walking took on an odd look:  his body was leaning sharply to the left.  Yet his pack was not weighing on him, and he claimed to have no muscle aches or pains that would cause this.  He said he just felt like leaning to the left.  This was a sign of something, but I didn't yet know what it signified.  It was certainly odd, especially his comment that he simply felt like doing it.  Our guide, David, was concerned, and strongly urged Ken to pick up some hiking poles to help him on our next trek.  We said we would let him know how things went on our next hike.

Bill and Ken taking a break

A caracara visits our campsite

At the Rio Electrico

Our final night was spent in the delicious comfort of the El Pilar inn

After our trek and a return to El Calafate we visited the famous Perito Moreno glacier.  The glacier is the toe of the great Andean ice field, the third largest reserve of fresh water in the world.  The face of the glacier is about 250 feet high, and calving sometimes blocks sections of Lago Argentina.  At one side of the glacier there is a crampon-rental station and tourists can explore some crevasse-free parts of the glacier.

A group makes its way onto the glacier

Ken on Perito Moreno

By tradition, a walk on a glacier is followed by a shot of whiskey.

Onwards to Part 2...