We were very grateful to have an extremely helpful hotel host that night. He arranged for our laundry to be done, made recommendations for dinner, and pointed out a few other helpful places/things. We went to a traditional Chilean restaurant and enjoyed celebratory Calafate sours (pisco sour with the local Calafate berry, a common local variant). Ellie had steak and I had salmon (Chile is the world's #2 exporter), each served with caramelized onions, 2 eggs, and fries. We successfully communicated in Spanish to ask for a table, order food, and get our check. The staff, like all the Chileans we met, were very friendly.
We went for helados. I got chocolate and manjar, whatever that was. The Spanish dictionary translates that to "delicacy". Very unhelpful. But it was tasty anyway. [Finally, I figured out today that that's the Chilean word for dulce de leche. I find it surprising that they use a different term for the same thing. In any case, it IS a delicacy, so at least it's appropriately named!]
Exhausted from our epic day, we knocked off at 9 pm, barely after sunset.
******
Monday we were back on the road. After four days on the trail, a road day sounded great. We had breakfast in the hotel bar, considering of eggs, cereal, yogurt, toast, and some leftover trail food.
And now for some commentary on pomelos. Before our hike we were in the grocery store, which had pomelos on offer. They were smaller than American grapefruit and much smaller than pomelos in the US - so I got a few for the hike. They were delicious! Very much like a grapefruit.
Well, it turns out that the Spanish word for grapefruit is pomelo. This is confusing because I've definitely seen grapefruit sold separately from pomelos in US stores - so is a pomelo a distinct fruit or not?
Thanks to a quick Google search, I've just learned that it's actually even more complicated. A pomelo is a distinct species of citrus. A grapefruit, on the other hand, is a hybrid of a pomelo and an orange! There's no such thing as a natural grapefruit. So, in summary, there are only pomelos in the world and - regardless of whether it's a real pomelo or a fake pomelo, in Spanish it's all the same: pomelo.
After a bit of Chilean souvenir shopping in Puerto Natales we were on the road. We retraced our steps at the border, declaring the import of our rental car once again. Passports and customs declarations complete, on we went, sad to be leaving Chile.
It's amazing how different the road infrastructure was between the two countries. In Chile, the roads were very well signed. Yellow and white stripes were everywhere. Passing zones clearly marked. Mileages posted. Hard shoulders in good condition. In Argentina, there were no stripes. Imagine driving for hours with no median centerline! Occasionally it wasn't clear what road you were on, or which way to go for key destinations. Thankfully we only needed two or three roads the entire time.
We pulled off a couple times to get up close and personal with some rheas and guanacos. I started to get some lower back tightness, which I attributed to carrying a heavy pack.
As we passed El Calafate, we drove into a terrain that was more like Utah than Wyoming. Sagebrush highlands were replaced with finally layered rocky escarpments. The main difference is that the rock had no red - just beige.
We followed the Rio Leona northward until we reached The Estancia La Estrella on the banks of Lago Viedma. At check in we were greeted with coffee and the largest slice of lemon meringue pie you've ever seen. Seriously. It was like the Torres del Paine of pie. I couldn't even see the lady doing our check in behind the mountain of meringue. It didn't last long!
The estancia, or ranch, had all of five guest rooms, and we were in room number one (actually, there was a hotel/cafe affiliated with the estancia 3km away, but no se habla de Bruno). Only two other rooms were occupied. Before you go thinking this was rustic, let me be clear: we had decidedly entered the cushy part of the holiday. The estancia offered a rec room (building) with bar, pool table, fireplace, wine cellar, games, and telescopes. The dining room (building) had only two tables to seat a total of 16. We and the other four guests were treated to a menu of dishes like lamb stew and rice, smoked trout and lemon risotto, empanadas, and a decadent flan with dulce de leche and chocolate sauce.
And the best part: aside from the ranch, there wasn't another building as far as the eye could see. How far could the eye see? All the way along the turquoise Lago Viedma all the way to the top of Cerro Fitz Roy, 60 miles away. Intermittent clouds, blue skies, a mountain view, arid desert, picturesque lake. And a picture window of the whole scene from the room. What's not to love?
That night was magic. After over a week in Patagonia, the clouds cleared and the wind died down a bit. From the ranch, perched just above the lake, I nearly had horizon to horizon clear skies. The only clouds? In the direction of the mountains, which conveniently also blocked the light of the setting moon.
How amazing was the night sky? The stars shone vivid and clear. The Milky Way passed straight overhead, clear as a painting. The Large and Small Magellanic cloud galaxies were easily discernible to the south west of the Milky Way - huge fuzzy patches in the night sky. The Large Magellanic Cloud is larger in apparent size than a full moon - the Milky Way's second closest neighbor.
In La Leona, we were at approximately 50 degrees South latitude. From an astronomy perspective, that means that the south pole is approximately 50 degrees higher than the horizon and all the stars appear to rotate about that point. This is the same in the northern hemisphere and we have a star very conveniently located almost exactly at the north pole point: Polaris, the north star.
If you were standing on the north pole, Polaris would be directly overhead. Since all the stars rotate about that point, all the stars would appear to move parallel to the horizon. No star would ever "rise" or "set". You would only ever see northern hemisphere stars because the stars at the horizon are those that are 90 degrees away from the north star. All the stars you'd see are visible all year around because they never set. At the south pole, the same phenomenon applies.
If you're standing on the equator, latitude 0, you have the north pole on one horizon and the south pole on the opposite horizon. The stars rotate about each pole, so if you're on the equator, they rise and set perpendicularly to the horizon. All stars rise and set every day. Here, you get to see all the stars of both hemispheres - but you have to wait for the right time of year to see your favorite constellations.
So, between the pole and the equator, you get a combination. Some stars are up all year around. some rise and set every day and are visible depending on the season. Some are never visible because they're too close to the opposite pole. That's why I could see Orion from the car: it's close enough to the equator that it's visible in both the US and Patagonia. On this night, Gemini, Leo, Canis Major, and some other northerners were also visible.
Because I was at 50 South latitude, I never saw the big dipper, Polaris, or Cassiopeia, stalwarts of the northern sky. But instead, the southern cross (Crux), Vella, Puppis, and countless other "new" constellations were high in the sky. The Southern hemisphere doesn't have a "south star" because the pole is in a relatively empty bit of space. But I was at least able to figure out where it roughly was, thanks to other constellations like the faint Octans.
As I continued to observe, other features jumped out to me. The Carina nebula is a huge star nursery within the Milky Way, relatively close to earth. It was clearly visible as a dense fuzzy patch almost straight overhead adjacent to a pair of star clusters. Also, right next to Crux is a dark nebula - a dense patch of interstellar gas and dust that blocks the light of stars behind. This "unnatural" black area was clearly visible in photos I took, but could also be seen by looking closely with the naked eye.
All too soon, midnight came and went. The next day we planned to hike up to the spectacular viewpoint of Fitz Roy, so I reluctantly called it a night.
******
The next day was, well, a day. We both awoke with some gastrointestinal distress. We must have eaten the same food in the previous two days that didn't sit well. We never had any nausea, but over the next week, there were a lot of stomach cramps and bathroom breaks for both of us. When you travel internationally, you have a choice: try all the delicious foods or eat only bread. Clearly we went for the former, and (although somewhat cavalier in terms of dairy, fruits/vegetables/etc), we ate in legitimate places with real menus. It's a risk worth taking, IMO.
Of course, when we woke up, we didn't know we were in for a week of baños, so we grabbed our bagged lunch and hit the road.
It's possible we were the first ones on the road to El Chalten that morning. The road, which follows the northern edge of Lago Viedma, was devoid of cars but full of guanacos. Unlike all our previous driving, these guanacos seemed particularly keen to cross the road. It was like a bad chicken joke. There's a problem here. Guanacos are yellowish beige and white. The landscape is yellowish beige and white. A lone roadside guanaco is surprisingly like a chameleon. We were cruising along when I saw a guanaco at about 50 m looking like it was about to enter the roadway. Ellie didn't see it. I shouted, "look out!" just as it made a move right in front of our 100 kph (60 mph) car. Ellie slammed on the brakes as it ran in front, curving awkwardly around the left bumper, its legs narrowly avoiding being clipped. I don't know how we missed it, but somehow, some way, we didn't have to peel guanaco off the car.
Be still, my beating heart.
We took about 15-20 kph off our speed the rest of the way.
El Chalten is an extremely quaint hiking town. Every other shop is a bakery or pub, clearly catering to the many hostels in town. All along our trip, people consistently said that the scenery around El Chalten was definitely better than TDP, which seemed impossible to me.
When we opened the car door in El Chalten, we were met with a cold, stiff wind. Ugh. We went to a bakery and got some tasty treats... And a baño. To be honest, you can probably just mentally tack that on to most of the rest of the activities on the trip. Forget Dueling Banjos; we were something else.
ANYWAY, we hit the trail. Laguna de los Tres was our target, a 22 km (14 mi) out-and-back hike. Still recovering from the W, were still sore and tired, so we agreed we'd see how it went; we could turn around any time. There were also a couple convenient benchmarks along the way. At 4 km there was a preliminary view of Fitz Roy. At 9 km was the Poincenot Camp. The trail was a modest incline to the camp before an aggressive 1000 ft climb to the lake, which supposedly offered similar views as the Mirador los Torres (but more spectacular).
Well we got to the preliminary viewpoint and.... Clouds. No view at all. Above and behind us was sun, of course, but the high peaks were totally missing in action. Still, we were actually feeling pretty good, so we pressed on.
As we continued through a deciduous forest full of deadwood, we came across the sound of some woodpeckers. Drawing closer, there were four huge woodpeckers right next to the trail, working on a log. The females were jet black with white streaks hidden under their wings; the males the same but for a scarlet red crest. Magellanic woodpeckers. They didn't care in the slightest that we were a mere three meters away. They just methodically worked the wood, picking out tasty grubs. This alone made the hike worthwhile.
Just before the Poincenot Camp, there was a rather incredible grassy bog with a crystal clear river running through and log bridges. Maybe it was the most green we'd seen in 10 days. Ahead was a magnificent valley with glacier-draped mountains coming down from the left. In the near left, high above the bog, there was a shelf. A steep trail ascended by switchbacks - tiny people were on the trail. Above the shelf..... Clouds.
A few hundred cold and windy meters later and we were in the camp, where we had a minimal lunch. A Crested Caracara (a scanenger somewhere between an eagle and a vulture in appearance) wandered over to see if we were
"well done" or still a bit too rare. Ellie and I decided that when vultures come to check us out, it's probably a good sign to call it quits. Cold, tired, cramps... And a shrouded summit. Why climb the last 1000 ft?
Instead, we returned to the clearing and had a seat. The cloud ceiling had lifted a bit and we could actually see most of the peaks of the Fitz Roy massif. An immense glacier filled the bowl coming down to the shelf where the Laguna de los Tres was located. Still, Fitz Roy was 500 m (1500 ft) taller than the second highest peak; the clouds were nowhere near accommodating our wish for a view. At least we saw Fitz Roy the day before from the Estancia.
We returned to El Chalten and the Estancia in turn. I was grateful to lay down, write a blog, and simply enjoy the picture window. Our hiking for the trip was finished.