If you couldn't tell already, it's been a jam-packed first few days and it's been really tough finding time to blog. This is a great problem, but apologies to you all for the somewhat disjointed blogging!
As I type this, we're waiting for a ferry across the Strait of Magellan... but more on that later.
At the end of the last post, we were just embarking on our Perito Moreno glacier hike. We were in a group of about 10 people with two mountaineering guides. The glacier runs from the top of the Andes eastward towards El Calafate, so our group plan was to hike parallel to the glacier along its south edge, heading westward. We'd hike about 5.5km in the woods on dry ground before being fitted for crampons and venturing out on the glacier. This plan was great because we got an excellent view of the glacier from the side and were able to cover ground quickly before being slowed by the crampons.
Venturing out into the ice was really cool (pardon the pun). The surface of the glacier was rock hard but extremely rough, like gravel. This gravelly surface was actually extremely sharp, as I discovered when I sat down and cut my hand (only very slightly, don't worry). Between the crampons and the surface texture, there was zero chance of slipping; I was actually more worried of tripping and wrenching a joint out of socket.
Sadly I don't think I can upload photos to the blog via my phone, but there seemed to be the types of glacier ice. The first type, closest to the trailhead, was full of undulating surfaces dozens or hundreds of feet large. With the surface snow melted, one could easily see why crevasses are so scary in alpine environments. The second row of glacier ice, where we walked, had relatively few undulations. I'd liken it to sand dunes, which you could climb over fairly easily. Apparently this portion of the glacier moves around 1m (3ft) downhill every day, gliding along melted water below the glacier. The third type, father up the glacier, consisted of immense vertical sheets of ice; one could not traverse this without considerable expertise and equipment. This is formed when the higher glacier slams down into the valley, rupturing the ice like colliding tectonic plates.
The 2km or so that we covered on the glacier featured three main colors. White, of course, the color of pristine ice. Second was black, as small pebbles and dust had been blown by the wind in a veneer over the entire glacier. It looked like a partially melted snow bank two weeks after a northeast snowstorm. The other color was blue. Scattered across the glacier, narrow crevasses and pools were filled with the most crystal clear brilliant blue you've ever seen. It was bluer than an Olympic swimming pool, brilliant and vibrant, yet so clear you could see down tens of meters into the depths. Most of the crevasses were so narrow that one couldn't fall into them, but a couple of the pools were broad and deep with definite flow. Absolutely stunning to behold.
We had lunch on the glacier, admired the views, and retraced our steps (which by the way, were literally invisible in the ice). On the way out, I noticed that the adjacent mountains had two bathtub-style tree lines. One of these, at three-quarters the elevation of the mountains, marks the ice level in the last ice age. The other line, 200 feet up from the floor, marks the ice level 100 years ago. The glacier is disappearing.
On our way out, Ellie and I became friends with an Aussie named Maddie. She was a couple weeks into a 6-week trip on paid leave. Her plan was to cover the whole area, including an Antarctica trip. Wouldn't it be nice to have so much vacation time! Along with a couple others, we sat at a table looking over the glacier face, hoping a formation we nicknamed 'Glen' would tumble into the water. He didn't abide, notwithstanding being precariously cracked from 'head' to 'toe'. We did see some other huge chunks calve off though, so we don't feel short changed.
When we came back into town, we had quick showers and then went out to eat with Maddie. In town there are several rather touristy but still delicious barbecues. Each one features a coal pit in the window with several lambs splayed and skewered, slowly roasting away. I was quite proud of my Spanish, as I successfully asked the hostess for a table and told her we didn't have a reservation. We split a bottle of Argentinian Malbec ('Animal Organico') and a huge skillet of BBQ meat, which included steak, ribs, chorizo, lamb... Black sausage, and intestines. We also got a side of grilled vegetables and a coal-baked potato. Aside from the intestines, it was delicious. Our first 'real' meal in Argentina with good food and good friends.
Oh. And then we had ice cream. 1000 pesos for two scoops in a waffle cone, a bargain. I had Calafate - a local berry reminiscent of blueberries or Swedish bilberries - along with 'chocolate super delicioso', a decadent medley of chocolate ice cream, chocolate bits, and dulce de leche.
The summer sun sets around 9 here, so since it was dark, it must have been around 10 or 1030 when we returned to the hostel. We organized, packed, and then I fell asleep blogging. We were exhausted.
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Yesterday morning (Monday) we woke early. We had a six hour drive ahead to get to Punta Arenas, Chile. Following a quick breakfast and making a sandwich lunch of baguettes and the creamiest queso (in this case, think mozzarella), we got the road.
Well, kind of. When we picked up the rental, they were unable to give us the requisite customs declaration form for driving into Chile. So first we had to go back to the airport to pick that up. Ellie drove out of town, past a gas station, through an unmanned police checkpoint to into the airport: smooth sailing. We agreed I'd take the first real shift... My first time taking a stick shift car on real roads. What could possibly go wrong??
Challenge one: reverse the car or of the parking spot. I never did that in my lesson. I stalled twice.
Challenge two: paid parking. Wait in line to pay a toll attendant. Almost stall thrice as each car in front of me goes.
Challenge three: repeat the line waiting process waiting to go through the exit barrier. Frantically lurch the car to life when it's my turn to pass.
Challenge four: agree we should top up gas... Approach security checkpoint and crawl up to police in first gear to avoid waiting in line; try not to look like an idiot for not knowing headlights were mandatory in daytime. (Or the Spanish for headlights)
Challenge five: gas station packed; wait for a pump to open. Attendant waves me all the way to the opposite end of the bank of pumps and narrowly avoid having to reverse (whew!). Successfully lurch into first gear and drive perpendicularly to the flow of traffic like a crazy person at a Garden State Parkway toll. On departure, avoid the manic plowing across a gravel pit cutting me off. Back in the road.
Challenge six: go back through the security checkpoint. Unlike Ellie, I had to wait in a line of traffic on a hill. Handbrake start ("do what now??") And lurch forward in the queue. At least the policia was happy to hear we were going to Punta Arenas. Finally hit the highway.
Bonus challenge: Apparently it wasn't flat; we quickly ascended a series of hills into highlands. Got stuck behind a little red car going well below the limit. He suddenly inexplicably slowed to 45kph and I jammed the brake, forcing me down into second gear. As he then happily sped away, I slowly found my way back up to third, fourth, and fifth. Finally, peace and quiet in a flat open highway.
Just the way we planned it.
Actually, I have to say the car was super forgiving. Thank goodness, as I only actually stalled 3 times total and I was spared a wealth of embarrassment. Ultimately I drove three fun and successful hours without incident, a huge success.
Over the last couple days we've totalled some 18 hours on the road from El Calafate to Punta Arenas and onward to Tierra del Fuego. What has amazed me has been the infinite sagebrush plains. Those familiar with my Tetons trip know I drove six hours across Wyoming and Utah, mostly with vast, empty, amber horizons. But that was capped on each end by mountains and mesas. This arid landscape makes Wyoming pale in comparison. Hour after hour, mile by mile, somewhere between pancake-flat and erosion-carved hills. Highlands and lowlands, yes, but nothing except dirt and sagebrush. For a thousand kilometers.
Oh, and guanacos. It quickly became apparent that seeing these long-necked ungulates having a roadside snack was more inevitable than the rise of the Patagonian sun. They're EVERYWHERE. It seems like every trip has it's common animal ('oh, just another Columbian ground squirrel'), but seriously it seems like there are more roadside guanacos in Patagonia than all the deer in New Jersey. Good thing they're pretty fun with their llama-like gaze, because they kept us entertained all the way south!
I think that's probably plenty of sagebrush to chew on today, but there's lots more for the next installment! The wildlife list keeps growing, we've had a great time in southern Chile, and we're gearing up for what may be a total slog of a backpacking trip. So stay tuned!
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