After a lonely Thanksgiving, I was looking forward to my brother`s visit since he bought his plane ticket. The month after turkey day was spent trekking, climbing, and hosteling around Patagonia so his visit and the comforts of our Buenos Aires rental apartment were much anticipated. Brett and Megan were also looking forward to the trip as respite from work and school. In this way, the four of us agreed it was time to relax.
Rach and I made a list of sights and activities complete with a schedule, the costs, and corresponding pictures from our guide book that we presented to our guests upon arrival - tour guide style. If only I had powerpoint available... Despite our efforts, plans for a tango show, Malba museum, river delta tour and even the first night in the aprtment failed - the latter due to our helpful turned deceitful rental manager.
Despite these disappointments, I credit our company for the unforgetable week in BA. Without them, counting the many broken armed Portenos and preganant women would not have been as fun. Insted of awkward, redundant small talk with other travelers, we were able to discuss changes in our lives in meaningful conversation.
We seemed to leave the bumps in the road behind as we smoothly sailed (not according to Rach) across the Rio Plata to Colonia (ask Brett to pronounce it and you`ll hear something different every time) in Uruguay. The colonial (obvi) town provided us with sun, surf, more great meals, and even exercise as we biked to town from our hospedaje (ask me to pronounce that and you´ll hear something different every time) to town.
We can look back on this past New Year´s Eve (the four of us had an Argentine asado with Louise and her parents followed by drinking in the street under mid-night fireworks and dancing at a bar seemingly dedicated to a showgirl - see pics) as a highlight of our trip because we were able to share food, drinks, dances, and hugs with Brett and Megan. Thanks for coming!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Deep South: El Bolson to Ushuaia
The journey from El Bolson to the bottom of the Continent in Ushuaia presents an obstacle course of landscapes shifting among arid desert, sheep pastures, jagged mountains and glacial ice fields. The forboding maze of Patagonia continues to intimidate travelers with its difficult terrain, schedules, rocky roads, and unknowns in its developed state much as it did during the first harrowing crossings of explorers without Rough Guides and Lonely Planets. Of course, the men for whom the region´s most impressive straits and peaks are named faced uncharted wilderness mythed to hold fire-spewing lands, but the modern day traveler faces a similarly soul-testing mission: avoiding the tour-bus tromped ¨Gringo Trail¨ and discovering for one´s self with the zeal of exporer´s past, the unearthly beauty of Patagonia.
With a stroke of luck, we chose December to explore the region, affording us off-season small crowds and high-season beautiful weather. In Calafate we found a car rental complete with a Brit to share the cost and take on the driving responsibilities (there are American rental companies here, but no automatic cars), side-stepping the tour buses shuttling from Calafate to Perito Moreno glacier, the city´s main attraction 80km away. The glacier enchanted us with 10,000 years of snowfall compressed into star blues and endless crevices. History moved with a slow thunder of far-off cracking and stunned us with its fragility as thousands of years of ice fell haphazardly into the water in seconds. We warded off the guilt of cheering for a large chunk of ice crashing into the iceberg graveyard in the lake below by reminding ourselves this is the only non-receding glacier in South America.
After seeing the glacier we decided we must walk on one but didn´t want to take the Perito Moreno tour where they throw you on for 20 minutes, give you a shot of whiskey and a piece of glacial ice and kick you off in time for the next tour group. So, we loaded up on cash and head to El Chalten (no ATMs here), a hippie one road climbing town at the edge of the Parque Nacional los Glacieres, home to Cerros Fitz-Roy and Torre, the ultimate climbing challenge in South America. Passing several glacial lakes, abrassively green hillsides, and wildflower valleys, we couldn´t help but feel a bit like Dorothy and the gang when the spindley Torres sprang up in the background spiraling in a brilliant but formidable grey, piercing a puff of clouds. We expected to find the Torres as false as emerald city´s glow but were even more dumbstruck at accepting their natural reality. At the end of our hike we were met with cookies, tents and dinner beneath the sunset by our friendly and talkative guides for the next day´s glacier walk. If seeing a glacier inspired applause, walking and climbing on one simply inspired awe. We straddled ice peaks, walked through ice tunnels, and leaned over 400 meter abysses of gem-blue waters. Feeling inspired and intimidated by the park´s peaks, we signed up for a day of guided climbing near town and ended our trek with artesanal beers and a torturous dinner accompanied by a poor man´s Pavorotti belting Tango tunes and seeking audience participation. We declined and decided all meals in El Chalten should be confined to the brewery or the cozy eco-chic lodge in town.
After conquering the far more manageable climbing cliffs near town, we reluctantly left the relaxing and surreal atmosphere of El Chalten having pushed our muscles and memory cards to the limit. Realizing that attempting to tackle this frontier independent of the tourism infrastructure in place to guide us would onl y lead to busted tires and broken spirits on the unpaved Ruta 40, we charted our way through confusing bus schedules and booked passage to Puerto Natales, gateway to the region´s crown jewel: Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine. Afterall, even Darwin hired a guide.
Having nearly exhausted its mining capabilities, this town is in the midst of an identity struggle between its industrial past and eco-adventure future. Despite its gritty looks and unpredicatble shifts in weather we found rental camping gear, a good restaurant, a warm place to hide from the elements, and a ride to the park in the morning.
Torres del Paine is undeniably strikingly beautiful. The lakes drown you in colors only previously seen in costume jewelery, the snow-capped peaks leave you straining your neck watching for avalanches, glaciers are at every turn, icebergs float in seemingly Caribbean waters, and in case you tire of vibrant greens and deep blues, there are delicate wildflowers in violet, red, pink and orange to interrupt the ¨monotony¨.
All that being said, our time in the park felt a bit like dejas-vu with bad weather. We didn´t think it was possible, but we were natural beauty fatigued. On top of that, our knees hurt, the winds were whipping us off the ground, it poured rain and our tent broke. So, we admitted to not being that hardcore and hopped the ferry out of there. For those looking to complete the W, we suggest the refugios. They´re a little pricey but very well-maintained and your body will thank you. For those looking to complete the Circuito (the 9-12 day round the park trek, including a treacherous pass and two days without services) we´ll award you the hardcore Darwin Explorer patch upon completion.
Having quashed our illusions of trekker grandeur, we moved on to Punta Arenas, which I suggest be skipped. The best thing in town is the cemetery, and you can see that in Buenos Aires. However, I was rewarded for not vomiting on a ferry by walking with thousands of penguins at the tail end of mating season. With nothing left to do but be depressed by the extreme waste of undeveloped waterfront, we left Punta Arenas and headed toward Ushuaia. Along the way we were treated to an awkward stop in Rio Grande (the trout capital of the world), an even more disconcerting transfer to a small van with wooden trailer luggage carrier, and a very odd viewing of ¨Phil Collins live and loose in concert¨ as the cherry on top of our journey.
Ushuaia is a town serving as a jumping off point for Antarctica cruises and a congratulatory pinnacle for modern-day Patagonia explorers. It invites to you share in the glory of past conquerers like Magellan, Fitz-Roy and Darwin, enjoy a submarino (Argentina´s excessivley rich version of hot chocolate), indulge in king crab, and play chicken with the constantly changing weather to climb one last peak or endeavour into the infamous Beagle Channel. We did it all: climbed a boggy peak in Tierra del Fuego, braved wind and rain to see penguins, sea lions and a rainbow in the Beagle Channel, hiked up one last glacier, relaxed in a café with submarinos while rain drenched the town and snow-dusted the mountains, and celebrated the sun never quite going down on solstice night with king crab soup, Patagonia lamb asado, and impecable seafood.
But we skipped the ¨Fin del Mundo¨ passport stamps; they´re soo touristy!
With a stroke of luck, we chose December to explore the region, affording us off-season small crowds and high-season beautiful weather. In Calafate we found a car rental complete with a Brit to share the cost and take on the driving responsibilities (there are American rental companies here, but no automatic cars), side-stepping the tour buses shuttling from Calafate to Perito Moreno glacier, the city´s main attraction 80km away. The glacier enchanted us with 10,000 years of snowfall compressed into star blues and endless crevices. History moved with a slow thunder of far-off cracking and stunned us with its fragility as thousands of years of ice fell haphazardly into the water in seconds. We warded off the guilt of cheering for a large chunk of ice crashing into the iceberg graveyard in the lake below by reminding ourselves this is the only non-receding glacier in South America.
After seeing the glacier we decided we must walk on one but didn´t want to take the Perito Moreno tour where they throw you on for 20 minutes, give you a shot of whiskey and a piece of glacial ice and kick you off in time for the next tour group. So, we loaded up on cash and head to El Chalten (no ATMs here), a hippie one road climbing town at the edge of the Parque Nacional los Glacieres, home to Cerros Fitz-Roy and Torre, the ultimate climbing challenge in South America. Passing several glacial lakes, abrassively green hillsides, and wildflower valleys, we couldn´t help but feel a bit like Dorothy and the gang when the spindley Torres sprang up in the background spiraling in a brilliant but formidable grey, piercing a puff of clouds. We expected to find the Torres as false as emerald city´s glow but were even more dumbstruck at accepting their natural reality. At the end of our hike we were met with cookies, tents and dinner beneath the sunset by our friendly and talkative guides for the next day´s glacier walk. If seeing a glacier inspired applause, walking and climbing on one simply inspired awe. We straddled ice peaks, walked through ice tunnels, and leaned over 400 meter abysses of gem-blue waters. Feeling inspired and intimidated by the park´s peaks, we signed up for a day of guided climbing near town and ended our trek with artesanal beers and a torturous dinner accompanied by a poor man´s Pavorotti belting Tango tunes and seeking audience participation. We declined and decided all meals in El Chalten should be confined to the brewery or the cozy eco-chic lodge in town.
After conquering the far more manageable climbing cliffs near town, we reluctantly left the relaxing and surreal atmosphere of El Chalten having pushed our muscles and memory cards to the limit. Realizing that attempting to tackle this frontier independent of the tourism infrastructure in place to guide us would onl y lead to busted tires and broken spirits on the unpaved Ruta 40, we charted our way through confusing bus schedules and booked passage to Puerto Natales, gateway to the region´s crown jewel: Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine. Afterall, even Darwin hired a guide.
Having nearly exhausted its mining capabilities, this town is in the midst of an identity struggle between its industrial past and eco-adventure future. Despite its gritty looks and unpredicatble shifts in weather we found rental camping gear, a good restaurant, a warm place to hide from the elements, and a ride to the park in the morning.
Torres del Paine is undeniably strikingly beautiful. The lakes drown you in colors only previously seen in costume jewelery, the snow-capped peaks leave you straining your neck watching for avalanches, glaciers are at every turn, icebergs float in seemingly Caribbean waters, and in case you tire of vibrant greens and deep blues, there are delicate wildflowers in violet, red, pink and orange to interrupt the ¨monotony¨.
All that being said, our time in the park felt a bit like dejas-vu with bad weather. We didn´t think it was possible, but we were natural beauty fatigued. On top of that, our knees hurt, the winds were whipping us off the ground, it poured rain and our tent broke. So, we admitted to not being that hardcore and hopped the ferry out of there. For those looking to complete the W, we suggest the refugios. They´re a little pricey but very well-maintained and your body will thank you. For those looking to complete the Circuito (the 9-12 day round the park trek, including a treacherous pass and two days without services) we´ll award you the hardcore Darwin Explorer patch upon completion.
Having quashed our illusions of trekker grandeur, we moved on to Punta Arenas, which I suggest be skipped. The best thing in town is the cemetery, and you can see that in Buenos Aires. However, I was rewarded for not vomiting on a ferry by walking with thousands of penguins at the tail end of mating season. With nothing left to do but be depressed by the extreme waste of undeveloped waterfront, we left Punta Arenas and headed toward Ushuaia. Along the way we were treated to an awkward stop in Rio Grande (the trout capital of the world), an even more disconcerting transfer to a small van with wooden trailer luggage carrier, and a very odd viewing of ¨Phil Collins live and loose in concert¨ as the cherry on top of our journey.
Ushuaia is a town serving as a jumping off point for Antarctica cruises and a congratulatory pinnacle for modern-day Patagonia explorers. It invites to you share in the glory of past conquerers like Magellan, Fitz-Roy and Darwin, enjoy a submarino (Argentina´s excessivley rich version of hot chocolate), indulge in king crab, and play chicken with the constantly changing weather to climb one last peak or endeavour into the infamous Beagle Channel. We did it all: climbed a boggy peak in Tierra del Fuego, braved wind and rain to see penguins, sea lions and a rainbow in the Beagle Channel, hiked up one last glacier, relaxed in a café with submarinos while rain drenched the town and snow-dusted the mountains, and celebrated the sun never quite going down on solstice night with king crab soup, Patagonia lamb asado, and impecable seafood.
But we skipped the ¨Fin del Mundo¨ passport stamps; they´re soo touristy!
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