Going Patagonian

Once again I have taken forever to update this blog. I apologize and wont offer any excuses because they are for cowards, lets just say that May was an extremely busy month, and probably one of the fastest ones of my life. We had two hellish weeks of mid-terms that really ruined the solidly upbeat vibe that had been my life for the previous 3 months. To get our groove back we decided to travel to the southern wilderness of Patagonia where we would encounter fresh cut air, imposing mountains and views, and clean streams of glacier water. The day after my final midterm I boarded a flight and headed south to one of the last places left where nature still utterly dominates anything civilization has to offer.

As the plane began to descend I put my book down and looked out the window to catch a glimpse of the land where I would be spending the next 10 days. It was barren and rugged and beautiful in the gray glow of dusk. We were getting awfully close to the ground, and there was still not a single light in sight, only a massive lake backed by snow capped mountains. Then I saw it, a single runway all by its lonesome on the shore of the lake. There was no other sign of society as the airport that serves most of Patagonia is one landing strip and one building surrounded by nothing else but nature. We landed at the peaceful and desolate Calafate airport and took a winding 20 minute cab ride along the lake to the actual town of Calafate. I wondered why they didn't just build the airport next to the town, but then I realized it was to instill a sense of wonder in the traveler as he lands amid nothing but mountains, or so the 80 peso flat rate from airport to town can keep the cab companies afloat.

After a quiet night we rose early for our trip to the glacier Perito Moreno. When I first caught a glimpse of the massive entity of ice I lost my breath. It has to be the single largest thing I have ever seen as it completely takes up the valley between two mountain ranges and generates the lago argentino with its ice melt. The bus took us down to a boat that would transport us across the lake to the foot of the glacier. While the glacier looks big from afar when you can see most of it, you can't understand its full size until you are slowly chugging towards it and the ice looms higher and higher. At places the glacier is 150 feet above the water, and its deepest point is 300 feet below. We disembarked and ate our packed lunches, which for me was two granola bars. After that we had a mini info session in which I learned we would be walking on ice that was 400 years old, and that there were little bugs that lived their whole lives in the glacier and ate, well the guide didn't really know what they ate, but they got by somehow. Then we went to the crampon place to put on our crampons so we could walk on the ice without slipping and falling on our butts. The rusty metal spikes strapped to my boots made me feel like a real mountaineer, a feeling that was amplified as we crunched over the field of ice and drank glacier water that was directly from the source. The water was cold, crisp, pure, and a lot better than Dasani. Our walk over the field of ice was beautiful and entertaining, albeit a little short. The guides made it up to us by giving us free whiskey mixed with glacier ice. After our celebratory toasts and drinks we left the surface of the glacier and descended underneath it. The ice cave emanated blue light over everything, and the drip drip of melting ice augmented the eerie atmosphere. We only spent a couple minutes inside, but they were well worth it because, I was inside a glacier.

The dawn view from our hostel in Calafate.
Perito Moreno nestled in the valley.
It's getting closer.
And closer.
And we're on it.
Enjoying some Famous Grouse with it's ice.
Now we're in it.
And it goes on and on and on.
View from the forest.
Some cool cats chilling at a glacier.
One last panoramic of Perito Moreno, click to truly take it in.

The next day was another early morning as we were taking a bus several hours north to the small town of El Chalten, the youngest town in Argentina. El Chalten was established 30 years ago by the Argentinian government to claim the land around it from Chile. The area contains some of the most breathtaking sights in South America, and Chalten acts as a base camp for travelers from all over the world who want to hike into the mountains. The town is now known as the the trekking capital of Argentina as it is completely situated in a National Park, and has various trails that lead the hiker into the wilderness. You don't need a guide to hike these trails, only a bottle of water, some lunch, and a persevering spirit. We arrived in Chalten around noon, and decided to do the easier six hour hike to the lago torre (tower lake) that day before the sun set. So we set off on some vague trail in search of the lake. We hiked over hills, sloshed in swamps, and forged through forests. The whole expedition reminded us all of the Lord of the Rings movies, and since we were nine we had lively debates about who was who in the Fellowship. Since I was our fearless leader and trailblazer it was unanimously decided that I was Gandalf, a role I wholeheartedly assumed as I strode ahead and let the lesser beings bicker over who got to be Aragorn. After 2.5 hours of hiking we reached our destination, a mountain lake backed by towering spires of rock. It was a beautiful sight to absorb as we lunched on sandwiches and washed them down with cold mountain water. The walk back was enjoyable and we returned to Chalten in time to see the sun setting over it.
Just a waterfall.
The wasteland we passed through to reach our destination.
The destination.
El Chalten in the waning sun.

We rose before the sun again the next day in order to accomplish the grueling 8 hour hike to the Laguna de los tres. The sun was rising as we began our expedition up and through the Andes mountains and the dawn light strengthened my resolve while the uphill climb weakened my legs. This trail ended up being a lot harder than the previous day's one as it was mostly uphill. For the first 3 hours we climbed 800 meters and walked about 10 kilometers, but for the last hour we had to climb another 800 meters in the space of 3 kilometers. We were essentially climbing a steep mountain that was high enough for there still to be snow in late summer. The trail became a jumbled mess of rocks that went straight up and never seemed to end. This last hour of hiking was one of the hardest things I have done in recent memory; by the end each step was a supreme effort and every rise mocked my attempt to scale the never-ending ascent. Finally, I made it. My legs felt like jelly, my heart was about to burst, and I was drenched in sweat, yet I felt amazing. It was a real accomplishment, one that had taken a lot out of me but, at end, had placed me on top of the world. I rewarded myself by dunking my head into the highest lake in Argentina, a cold and refreshing experience. We then had the most delicious and replenishing lunch I have ever had. After hanging out up top for an hour enjoying the rest and views we started the long descent to society. We finally reached Chalten after dark, and collapsed in the hostel. Over the past two days we had hiked almost 50 kilometers, and we were fairly exhausted from it.
Fitz Roy Mountain in the distance.
Andes at dawn.
The mountain we climbed.
Didn't quite climb it, but we got pretty close.
The hidden lake.
The view away from Fitz Roy on the mountain we did climb.

That night we boarded a bus that would take us to Bariloche, an Argentinian ski town several hundred miles North. Because the route that spans the Andes closes once summer ends, we had to take a roundabout journey that lasted 35 hours. At one point I looked out the window to see the Atlantic Ocean, a surprising sight since I thought we were deep in the interior. Eventually, we made it to Bariloche, which unfortunately had no skiing yet. We ended up staying for four days relaxing in the laid back atmosphere and beautiful scenery of the mountain town. Some hours were spent lounging and reading in the sunny hostel lounge, and others were fulfilled wandering around Bariloche exploring chocolate factories and restaurants. The guys went go karting which was fast paced and competitive while the girls got massages and pedicures which was relaxing, I guess. Also, we all went paragliding which is very cool. You stand on a mountain and your guide tells you to run as hard as you can down it. After a couple steps your legs are kicking at air and you are gliding through the sky. When I went we circled up and up and up until we reached the clouds and I could see over the mountain I took off from. It was mighty cold up there, and thankfully the man dropped down after a couple minutes because he didn't want to get lost in the clouds. The whole experience was soothing and introspective as I simply sat and watched the world go by beneath my feet. For our final day in Patagonia we rented bikes and rode the seven lakes circuits which gave us some epic views of blue lakes surrounded by green mountains. It was a wondrous day and a perfect end to an unforgettable vacation. Patagonia is an immense and beautiful place, and I hope to return someday to see it all and more.
The view from our hostel in Bariloche at dusk.
I'm flying!
Pretty high up too.
It was nice up there.


Video of us catching a thermal and rising.
A mountain lake view in Bariloche.
Another lake and another mountain.
The sun setting on the lakes and on our Patagonian adventure.
Cheers to a trip well done.

Mustache Mendoza

We returned to Buenos Aires from Salta on a Thursday morning. We took five days to recover from our various stomach ailments and catch up on sleep before we once again stepped on a bus destined for the Andes on a Tuesday. This time we were going South and West to a city called Mendoza famous for its wines and scenery. We did the trip without the planning or funding of Boston College, which turned out to be a great idea. The group consisted of six BC students, one French/American named Max, and 5 Argentinians. The diversity was a plus especially since we were able to practice Spanish and compare the differing sexual expressions of our respective cultures. Dave, Dan, and I still hadn't shaved since before Salta and we all had vowed to create mustaches for our excursion to Mendoza. Dave wussed out and went for the goatee while Dan created an awesome chinstrap/mustache which he dubbed the Chester A. Arthur. I stayed true to my word and rocked a 'stache that was partly badass but mostly sleazy. People frequently mistook me for a private detective from the 80s. Brenny continued to be unmanly and stayed at home to watch romantic comedies by himself.

Remembering the horror of our previous 20+ hour bus rides across Argentina, Dave and I properly prepared ourselves by packing a couple bottles of wine and some Fernet (Argentina's national liquor drink which tastes like cough syrup, but in a good way, if that makes any sense). The stuff is strong, and we ended up getting sufficiently tipsy. Needless to say, the bus ride was actually quite fun as the alcohol helped to create much laughter, several mishaps, and a whole lot of silliness. I was a little out of it when we arrived in Mendoza the following morning. We took a scenic cab through the very pretty city of Mendoza to our hostel. The streets are wide and lined with overhanging trees. The buildings are short, tasteful, and unobtrusive. The atmosphere is laid back and content, and all of this combined to remind me of my childhood in Harare.

We met up with our Argentine friends at the hostel and went out for lunch to discuss our plans for the week. After the lunch we returned to the hostel to rent bikes from there in order to further explore the city. We'd heard whispers of a mysterious park to the west of Mendoza that had pretty trees and sparkling blue lakes. There were even rumors of a hidden stadium flanked by huge snow-capped Andean mountains. So we hopped on our bicycles and commenced exploring. After some tricky maneuvering through traffic and over drainage ditches we discovered the park, and it was glorious. There were mile and miles of verdant greenery to ride through. I cruised next to the sun-glistening lake towards the picturesque mountains that filled the background while slowly enjoying an orange popsicle. Then we explored a stadium devoid of people allowing me to coast down the ramps and bask in the echoing silence that only a large empty building can provide. Next was some intrepid riding through woods and soccer fields, over creeks and fences. It was one of the better bike rides I've taken, and a great way to see Mendoza while stretching our legs which were cramped from the long bus ride. Also, I was shirtless for essentially the whole time making it 100 times better.

A typical Mendozan street.

The next day we took a bus to the small town of Maipu that is famous for having like a million wineries. We had heard that the best way to enjoy Maipu was to rent a bike and ride to the various wineries visiting and tasting as much as possible. There lives a man called Mr. Hugo to help young people realize this goal, and he is the coolest man in Argentina. Everyday he rents out bikes to people, fortifies their spirits and bodies with some homemade wine, and sends them off to fend for themselves. He is extremely happy and approachable, seemingly using every fiber of his being to cater to his clients and guarantee their enjoyment even though he will probably never see them again. He also has tandem bikes which are hilarious and great for drive-by water attacks on unsuspecting friends. We arrived rather late to Maipu so we were only able to visit the wine museum which was full of big wooden barrels of wine and two other wineries. It worked out well though because the last place we went to gave us four glasses each for 25 pesos total. The marketing ploy worked wonders on us as we proceeded to buy several bottles from them and sit in the grass drinking and chatting the waning hours of the day away.

It turns out that we had biked pretty far and were many miles away from Mr. Hugo's house. It was beginning to get dark too, and I figured we would probably have to leave soon; however, several members of our group were in no state to ride a bike 10 feet let alone several miles. I was a little worried, and I was soon a lot worried when two paddy wagons pulled into the winery. "Uh Oh" I thought, "we're gonna spend some time in a tiny Argentinian jail for being loudmouthed Americans." I eyed my bike and envisioned jumping on it and dashing into the vineyards towards the setting sun and freedom. As these thoughts filled my brain Mr. Hugo pulled up in his pickup truck and greeted the cops like old friends. Mr. Hugo is such a beast that he controls the local police force and gets them to transport his clients from far off wineries back to his house. For once, the police were there to help us, and for once they were really nice. They let us pose for pictures and be handcuffed for fun; then they piled us into the back of the paddy wagons and gave us a ride back to Mr. Hugo's. The man provided us with jugs of his homemade wine and we proceeded to get wild. It was a very fun party that we never wanted to leave, but our growling stomachs forced us to board the bus back to Mendoza. The ride was ridiculous as people were singing at the top of their lungs, dancing in the aisles, and doing gymnastics on the support bars. It had been a great day and after eating, drinking, and dancing a little more we went to bed fairly early to prepare for our two day rafting trip that commenced in the morning.

This is what wine comes from.
This is where wine is made.
This is our group exploring the wine country.
This is the wine road we biked down.
This is Madeleine and Barbie sharing a bike, and yes I can ride and take pictures at the same time-skillz.
This is a plaque from the ultimate winery. It says - He who drinks gets drunk, he who gets drunk sleeps, he who sleeps doesn't sin, he who doesn't sin goes to heaven, and since we are going to heaven, lets drink! Now that's a saying that makes sense.
This is us in a paddy wagon, hopefully the only time.
These are some real men, the one on the right might be Magnum PI.
This is debauchery.

The next day we woke up bright and early to drive up and into the Andean mountains for our rafting trip. The plan was to do about 5 hours of rafting each day, eat drink and be merry around a campfire, sleep in the wilderness, and in general have a blast. The company that did the trip for us provided everything but sleeping bags, which we failed to bring, so they provided sleeping bags too. We had two guides that were very cool and funny. They were extremely helpful as they cooked for us, saved our lives, and drank with us. The Mendoza river descends from the snow capped Andes in a canyon of mountains reaching for the clouds. The views and icy water are equally breathtaking and exhilarating. Because the water is so damn cold, we were outfitted in wetsuits, windbreakers, booties, and helmets. I thought I looked fairly ridiculous and felt as if I was being sent to the moon. It was OK though as we all looked equally stupid except for the guides, who had their own cooler gear, and Max who managed to pull off a French adventurer look which he lived up to by peeing in his wetsuit. Dirty dirty frenchy.

After some basic instructions and struggles outfitting ourselves in the suits we jumped in the boats and were off. The rapids weren't anything too crazy but still very fun; it helped that getting hit in the face by a surging wave of frigid water would send adrenaline rushing through the body. The strong sun and wind quickly dried us off unless you managed to fall in which happened to our friend Augustin. It apparently happened in slow motion and his two boatmates, Max and Dave, were too busy laughing to paddle over to rescue him. He ended up spending a solid 30 seconds in the water because of their inability to help. He was shivering the rest of the day and not too happy with them, but all was quickly forgiven. After several hours of rafting and paddling we stopped for camp at an abandoned railway station. The ruins were quite mysterious and decrepit, a perfect setting for a horror movie. To strengthen our spirits we had each others company, a roaring campfire, and, most importantly, ten liters of wine. I guess we drank a lot of wine in wine country, you know, when in Rome.

The next day was not sunny, and not warm in anyway. The river was colder and the wind stronger. We had no choice but to brave it out and continue down the river to the end. The rapids were quite strong and fun too, and I couldn't decide if I was enjoying myself or having the most miserable time. The four hour ride down the river was some of the coldest I have ever been as we were thoroughly drenched by the rapids, and this time there was no sun to dry us off. We tried to laugh it off and revel in each others misery, but boy was I glad to step off the raft onto dry land. It took me a couple minutes to walk properly though because my feet were completely numb, and it took us all a couple of hours to warm back up and stop shivering. It was a great experience though and the whole rafting trip was one of my funner times in Argentina.

The rafting group in all our glory.
Rios y Montanas-perfecta pareja.
It was a scenic ride.
We found old El Dorado.
Bridge over trouble waters.
Remnants of the railroad that used to run next to the river.
The abandoned railroad station where we camped.
That's some cold water there.

That night we returned to our hostel for a welcome night of sleep in a warm bed. The next day we went on a hiking and rappelling trip into the Andes. We hiked up one side of a mountain, then put on our gear and hiked down the other side to some cliffs. An early morning hike in beautiful mountains is a great way to brighten one's mood, and walking backwards down a 130 foot cliff is a great way to spark one's self confidence. The two combined to make me quite content. After the physical activity was done we visited some legit hot springs that were located in the mountains next to Mendoza river. There were many pools with temperatures ranging from super hot to relaxing hot to normal to freezing mountain river cold. We tried them all but mainly settled on the relaxing one to ease our aches away and prepare ourselves for the long bus ride back to Buenos Aires. That was far from my mind though as I lay in the water and contemplated the mountains surrounding me: a perfect way to end a fantastic vacation.
Panoramic view from our hike's highest point.
Tarantula! This thing was huge.
Scenic yet treacherous descent.
More treacherous descent.
Hot springs...they were epic.
Me and the mountain.