Puerto Natales, CHILE - 15 january 2003
Thigh muscles or no, they remained covered up, tucked behind, layered in the cold and windy Puerto Natales. But after the wind in Torres del Paine, nonono… I shall not complain about the wind in Puerto Natales.
My pants, unwashed since a few weeks before I left Buenos Aires, could probably stand on their own now. My socks… dare I admit they are mine? I left them to the professionals.
I had some leftover bread from my hike. I remembered there were many stray dogs all over Puerto Natales, hiding from the wind and searching for food-scraps. I would feed them with my bread. But it was always the case, wasn’t it? Now, armed with bread, I could not find the dogs.
Puerto Natales to Puerto Montt, CHILE - 16 january 2003
I made another attempt covering more blocks to find the famished dogs and managed to toss the bread to some dogs today.
I would take the Navimag ferry this evening. It would be a three-night cruise through the Chilean fjords, arriving at Puerto Montt on Monday morning. Coincidentally, Koen and his girlfriend (who had skipped the Torres del Paine) would also be taking the same ferry. He had pointed out, “I heard it will be cold on the cruise.”
R-E-A-L-L-Y????? C-O-L-D in PATAGONIA?? Who would have imagined THAT???
We were told we could board by 9pm. But it was later dragged to 11:30pm. And finally, at 12:30am, we climbed onboard the ferry.
There was some mayhem at the storage area as a long truck had overturned. This was going to take a while…
We were all booked for Cabin ‘C’. ‘C’ for CONTAINER?, we feared. Nah, we had a little comfortable bed with curtains for privacy and a locker for our bag. Nice. We wondered if we would get a chance to dine at the captain’s table though.
I explored the ferry. Dining room was self-service and utilitarian, with plastic chairs and tables. No freaky chandeliers. No thick-woven Persian carpets. No Greek naked statues. No gold-guilded curved stairways. No stupid fountains. Wait, I was unable to locate the sun-deck, swimming pool and the mini golf-course.
A middle-aged tourist was verbally abusing a hapless crew-member and passing snide, sarcastic remarks. “Where’s my baggage?? Can I get it tonight? Tomorrow, maybe? This year??? Huh?? I WANT TO GET TO BED! Hey! Hey! That’s MY CABIN! What do YOU want?!!”
I re-entered my 22-man ‘C’ cabin and another middle-aged tourist asked me in a tired but worried tone, “Do you know WHEN we can get our baggage?”
Paradigm shift, geezers. Who is the one going to bed? You or your baggage? If you are here, the bed is here… GO TO BED!
To Puerto Montt, CHILE - 17 january 2003
We awoke this morning and found that we were still tethered to Puerto Natales. We did not awake voluntarily. We had all slept early this morning but the breakfast announcement said that breakfast was only served between 8 and 9am. Just 1 hour. So, we all dragged ourselves up to chomp down some food, and headed back to bed.
We finally left at around 10+am. Gisela, the middle-aged tourist sleeping below me totally missed breakfast. She claimed she did not hear the announcement because of her GOOD ear-plugs. OK, another fancy-gear alert.
We passed by the narrowest strait today. The crew tried to get us all excited about it. This section was 80 metres wide and could only be attempted in daylight. It was thoroughly COLD and WET standing at the deck to witness this ‘memorable’ moment. We later passed by a glacier that came nearly down to the fjords too.
Somehow, I had expected the scenery to be with deeper fjords and more dramatic gorges, maybe even with ice-bergs floating around. But it was generally flattish and roundish green islands scattered here and there along the channels. Well, if you have watched ‘Titanic’, maybe having no ice-bergs around is a GOOD thing.
To Puerto Montt, CHILE - 18 january 2003
Gisela’s alarm clock beeped for an eternity. Guess she did not want to miss breakfast today. But, what happens when you pitch a GOOD alarm clock against GOOD ear-plugs? The whole cabin woke up except the intended.
We passed by Puerto Eden today. This is a port-town with a population of about 200 people and their only contact with the outside world is via the Navimag ferries.
This bleak port-town, located in this icy-cold, wind-swept, forever rainy, impossible channels of the Chilean fjords contained the last few remaining people (about 10) of the Kawascar indigeneous race. It was so sad to hear that a particular human race was about to be extinct. Actually, there are several other races down south in Tierra del Fuego which are extinct or on the verge of disappearing too.
The Navimag ferries provide them with some supplies and take those in need of medical help to Puerto Natales or Puerto Montt. Many boats rowed out towards the ferry to meet us. With pattering rain on my face and my frozen nose about to fall off, I could only stand there in the rain and admire the resilience and adaptability of the people living out here.
Later, we passed by an abandoned rusty ship which had run aground 30 or 40 years ago. Again, this was another moment the crew got us all excited about. I stood inside by the window and waited for the rusty ship. Then, I got impatient and went out.
It was so easy to type ‘went out’ but it took a lot of force, heaving and shoving, to push the door open against the ferocious wind. I was out there for 20 seconds and had to force the door (the handle outside was barely held in place) open again. I re-entered clumsily and now looked like a soaked chicken.
We would cross the aptly named Golf de Penas (Gulf of Pains) tonight. This is the only section where we had to sail around a peninsula, across a gulf and then on open sea around the peninsula before heading back into the channels. This was the legendary bit of the cruise. The pukability meter would rank high tonight.
We were watching ‘The Matrix’ when IT began. The slow, continuous swaying of the boat, the special high-tech effects of the movie as we traversed through wormholes and into virtual reality and the ‘charm’ of Keanu Reeves, one got nauseous really quickly. Many left before the movie ended.
To Puerto Montt, CHILE - 19 january 2003
There was a loud crash in the middle of the night and everyone woke up. The swaying and rocking had gotten worse through the night. Some people feared the worst. Gisela started to panic and demanded to know from a crew-member if a truck tied to the ferry had fallen down. No, it was probably much worse, dear. Then, she insisted that if there was a fire on the ferry, they MUST sound the alarm and let us know. OK, but if you continue to wear those GOOD ear-plugs…
By breakfast, I staggered, held onto beams and walls and made my way to the dining-room. A section of the ceiling was on the floor. All the tables and chairs were tied up. We were getting sandwiches today, nothing of the sumptuous breakfast we had had yesterday.
I looked out through the window. The entire view showed the sea one moment and then, the ship rocked to reveal the sky the next. I felt woozy and headed back to bed. Lying down, one seemed to cope better.
By lunch, in order not to let my new muscles waste away, I again made my way to the dining-room for some exercise. At one point, a surreal scene happened in front of me that seemed to be in slow-motion. It looked unreal. Tables skidded and people fell off their chairs. Food flew. Beets spattered. Oranges rolled. Beef-steaks slid across the room. Rice scattered. Even after it was over, I still could not register this scene properly. It felt like all of us were in orbit, floating around.
After lunch, I stared out of the window again and observed the waves. Everything indeed was in slow-motion. The swelling and troughing of the waves, the breaking of the waves, the spreading of the waves, the rocking of the ferry… everything took its time and appeared to be placid and peaceful. It was so surreal. But, now that they had fed me, maybe I should not be staring at the waves.
We finally re-entered the channels late afternoon.
Puerto Montt to Castro (Chiloé Island), CHILE - 20 january 2003
Miyako, a Japanese lady travelling alone, joined me at lunch again. She is very sweet and nice but we could not really communicate for her English was rather bad and my Japanese was limited to ‘Arigato’ and ‘Sayonara’. Half the time, she gave me blank looks and I was never sure if she understood what I was saying. Most of the time, she did not talk to me but when she did, she used sporadic words and some noises disguised as words and I usually did not understand her.
With her, came an elderly Japanese man surgically attached to his Sony digi-cam. This one spoke neither English nor Spanish.
With him, came another Japanese young guy who now lives in London. He could speak English but was rather shy and did not have much to say to me.
So, together, we formed ‘little Asia’ at the dining-room. As three of them chatted away in Japanese, nodded earnestly and took photographs, I ate up my lunch in silence. Next to me sat two Mexicans, conversing in Spanish. This was so funny. I looked like the Japanese but I could not understand a word. Yet, I could understand 80% of what the Mexicans were talking about and I very much wanted to join in their conversation. However, they were trying their best to ignore ‘little Asia’, especially Grandpa Sony who was filming his lunch for the third time.
We finally docked at Puerto Montt around 4pm. We bid farewells to those we got to know on the boat and everyone headed to the bus terminal to catch a bus out rightaway. I journeyed straight to Castro, a town in the middle of a nearby island, Chiloé. The rain pattered on…
Showing posts with label Puerto Natales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Puerto Natales. Show all posts
Monday, January 20, 2003
Thursday, January 9, 2003
20 - Where the Penguins Roam (Puerto Natales, El Chalten, El Calafate)
Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales, CHILE - 03 january 2003
The Germans were heading to Ushuaia today and I, to Puerto Natales. Kai and Udo had been in Punta Arenas for two weeks, waiting for Kai’s new passport. He had carelessly left it on a bus, two weeks into their trip. They were here so long they seemed to be running the hostel, for the hostel guys, Caco and Jorge, were hardly ever around.
The hostel guys would appear suddenly to fetch something from their rooms, exchange a few quick words with us and disappear. They would return at perhaps 10+pm and ask us to wake them up at 12 midnight so that they could go out to party. They were supposed to be at the bus-station all day, hoping to bait a tourist, like what they did me. Only last night did we have new guests but they were walk-ins.
We all seriously wondered if Caco could manage the hostel with the Germans gone. Just after they left for the bus-station, I asked Caco if he had taken the keys back from the Germans. He let out a scream and ran out to chase after the Germans. Later, he returned with the keys and pantingly told me that when the hostel was opened two months ago, he had twelve keys, and now, only three were left. Yeah, we should not worry, they would do a good job running their hostel.
I arrived at a yet another very windy and cold Chilean town, Puerto Natales. Maybe even windier and colder than what I remembered of Punta Arenas. And this was supposed to be SUMMER!
I made arrangements for my boat trip to Puerto Montt by ferry in two weeks’ time and had a discussion with Hurben, my hostel owner, about the Torres del Paine hike. He suggested I do it alone by renting a tent and a stove and bringing my own food. Urrmmm… I was not sure if I could do it but I would worry about that later. Tomorrow, I wanted to cross back into Argentina to visit a few places first, before returning to do the Torres del Paine trek.
When I was out about in town, I could not really go far for the wind was really very strong. It was better to stay huddled in a café or the hostel. At a café, I overheard a group of Western tourists, very seriously and studiously discussing the Torres del Paine hike, commenting about ‘4 hours on this trail’, and ‘the contours looked steep here’.
Actually, for a while now, since I arrived in Punta Arenas, I had already began to feel that the backpackers here appeared to be all out for an expedition, very equipped for trekking. Afterall, they had flown all the way from Europe purely to do some serious hikings. Most had gigantic backpacks, with rolled-up tents, mattresses, warm sleeping bags and other high-tech gears tied to them. Many also had the mean-looking walking poles, which if not used properly, could take an eye or two out. At every free time, they could be spotted poring over hiking maps, mapping out trails and discussing their routes. All very SERIOUS.
I bit into my bread and considered about ME. Gee… I, thoroughly ill-equipped, seemed to be heading off to do some trekking with nothing but a backpack of optimism.
Puerto Natales, CHILE to El Chaltén, ARGENTINA - 04 january 2003
Long day of travel today as I crossed the border back to Argentina. Strange that after the border, the clouds disappeared and the sky was beautifully blue. A huge difference from Puerto Natales.
We stopped at a toilet / snack stop in the middle of nowhere. I know I am repeating myself but the wind was really, really vicious. I did not walk back to the bus later. I kinda floated-landed-floated-landed.
As I looked out of the window and saw the whipping wind thrashing the scrublands, I realised this must be the part of the world where the locals had twenty different names for ‘wind’ and if I mentioned ‘árbol’ [tree] to them, they would need to look it up in the dictionary for they had long forgotten that trees exist on this planet.
We arrived at El Calafate, near the famous Argentinian glaciers, 7½ hours later. I bought another bus-ticket out to El Chaltén later this evening. Again, the journey to El Chaltén was through barren, wind-swept moonscape. However, the sky was so crisp and clear that day that when we were perhaps more than 100 km from El Chaltén, we were able to spot some sudden pointy intrusions from the plains - the mountains of Cerro Torres and Fitzroy in the distance.
Gosh, they were just spectacular, even from such a distance. Amidst the flatlands, it was weird to see such sharp peaks jutting out suddenly. That was why some mountains were named after impressive figures of our past and others are simply known as ‘mere mountains’.
El Chaltén, ARGENTINA - 05 january 2003
Such was my luck that today, the selected day for my hike to view Mount Fitzroy, it was cloudy the entire morning.
The clouds nested around Mount Fitzroy the entire time I was heading towards it, never quite lifting away. I was walking with Britta, a Canadian, who did not mind some company. The majority of the hike was through rather easy flattish woods. It was gorgeous all around, with pine trees and reddish shrubs and glaciers and snowy mountains in the distance.
The last bit of the hike, about 1 hour or so, was up a hill, rather steep and stony the entire way. I got really winded in a while. Seriously, can I do the Torres del Paine hike by myself?
But, naturally, once you reached the top, the reward was stupendous and you forget all the pains and troubles at once. Mount Fitzroy and company were picture-perfect behind Lago a los Tres, a glacier lake. OK, they would be picture-perfect if the clouds would lift. We stayed up there for more than an hour, basking in the radiant beauty of the surrounding mountains and the icy lake, waiting and waiting for the clouds.
Finally, we did a few snappies, filled up our bottles with glacier water and embarked on the walk down.
On the way back, we kept turning around to look at Mount Fitzroy. Slowly, the clouds WERE lifting! At each strategic spot, we took a picture, just in case this was the BEST Mount Fitzroy we could get. Actually, by then, I thought, with the clouds almost floating away, some parts of it clinging to the mountain, the tail-ends of it fluttering in the wind, somewhat caressing the sky… it actually made Mount Fitzroy look alive!
In the end, we probably had enough Mount Fitzroy photos to last a lifetime. Well, I was thoroughly impressed by the immense beauty of the park. Gosh, how can you NOT LOVE this country!!! No wonder they make great calendars.
El Chaltén to El Calafate, ARGENTINA - 06 january 2003
Today, heading out of El Chaltén, the sky was once again clear, cloudless and wondrously blue. Oh well. Mount Fitzroy posed eternally and stoically in the background as I departed.
Back in El Calafate that afternoon, I walked around the touristy little town and poked my nose into those touristy little shops selling touristy little souvenirs.
Now back in Argentina, which was cheaper than Chile, I decided to purchase some grocery supplies for my Torres del Paine hike which I still was not sure if I could do it.
El Calafate, ARGENTINA - 07 january 2003
I joined an excursion to do a minitrekking on Perito Moreno Glacier today. We were all bundled into a huge tourist bus and it spun through the woods and mountains for about 2 hours before turning a corner and lo and behold, the VERY IMPRESSIVE Perito Moreno Glacier stretched out ahead of us! What a VIEW!
Then, we were transported to a ferry that brought us to the western end of the glacier.
We were met by dashing-looking glacier-trekking guides. All of them were wearing cool sun-shades, were dressed in cool blue jackets, were slightly unshaven. They were just posing by the rocks, muttering ‘Buen dia’ [Good morning] and ‘Hola’ [Hello] and looking dashing.
They reminded me of the dashing-looking abseiling guides I had in Bonito, Brazil. Guess it came with the job description… Only the dashing-lookings need apply.
Luki, our English-speaking and dashing-looking guide, proceeded to explain how glaciers are formed to us English-speakers. The group of ice here in Southern Patagonia is the third largest in the world, after Antarctica and Greenland. The ice here is not very old, perhaps four or five centuries old, but it was difficult to estimate. See? Despite being slightly distracted, I paid attention.
Just then, we heard a crack and a groan and some chunks of ice fell off round the corner. It created a series of waves that washed up to our feet.
We donned crampons and followed José, another dashing-looking dude, up the undulating ice. It was not very difficult to walk on ice, with crampons. Just stomp around. It was better to walk with feet apart and flat-down.
Occasionally, there were deep, blue, beautiful crevices or holes inside the glacier. The ‘blueness’ was an optical illusion caused by the lack of oxygen in the ice further below.
When we were done, we were brought to another viewpoint right in front of the HUGE glacier. It was really very impressive. How blue it all looked. I could not believe I was staring right at a glacier!! I had long since run out of adjectives. I waited for the chance to see a whole wall of ice fall off. So, whenever there was a crack and a groan, we all looked around desperately, “Where? Where?” It was a AMAZING excursion. I probably had enough glacier photos to last two lifetimes.
El Calafate, ARGENTINA to Puerto Natales, CHILE - 08 january 2003
We crossed the border back to Chile. The Customs guys at the Chilean border wanted to check our bags. Ooops. We were not supposed to bring in fruits, meat and some stuff. I was not sure if the groceries I picked up were alright. He rummaged through my bag, fondled my cans of pate and my packet of rice and said nothing. He missed my carton of Dulce de leche (but of course!). Phew.
Puerto Natales, CHILE - 09 january 2003
I bought more groceries, rented a one-man tent and a stove, shopped around and found a cheap canister of gas and shoved everything into my backpack. Yet, I still was not sure if I could do the Torres del Paine hike myself.
By evening, I chatted with a Swiss couple, Thomas and Silvie, and a Dutch girl, Hannake, in the hostel. Thomas and Silvie were also heading to Torres del Paine tomorrow. Hanna was waiting for some Dutch friends to show up tonight and they would hit Torres del Paine the day after.
Thomas: “Do you have rain gear?”
Me: “Just a jacket.”
Silvie: “Nothing for your pants??”
Me: “No… nothing.”
Thomas: “Oh, everyone on the trip says it will definitely RAIN and RAIN!”
Silvie: “How about thermal underwear?”
Me: “Nope, I don’t have that either.”
Silvie, concerned: “But it will be VERY COLD!”
Thomas: “What temperature can your sleeping bag take?”
Me: “It says on the label 1°C to 8°C.”
Thomas, now very concerned: “Oh no… That means you will only be barely comfortable at 8°C. It is not warm enough.”
Hanna: “WHAT? You don’t even have a map???”
Me: “Well. No. I suppose I can borrow, if I want.”
The three were very sweet and very kind and very concerned for me. I knew I was ill-equipped but I just did not possess the fancy gears that Europeans do and I could not BUY everything.
They have these gizmos because they are experienced hikers and they come from cold countries and use them anyway. For my tropical country - Sarong? Yes… Cute spaghetti-straped sundresses? Yes… Thermal underwear? Afraid not.
I guessed they probably said a silent prayer for me that evening.
The Germans were heading to Ushuaia today and I, to Puerto Natales. Kai and Udo had been in Punta Arenas for two weeks, waiting for Kai’s new passport. He had carelessly left it on a bus, two weeks into their trip. They were here so long they seemed to be running the hostel, for the hostel guys, Caco and Jorge, were hardly ever around.
The hostel guys would appear suddenly to fetch something from their rooms, exchange a few quick words with us and disappear. They would return at perhaps 10+pm and ask us to wake them up at 12 midnight so that they could go out to party. They were supposed to be at the bus-station all day, hoping to bait a tourist, like what they did me. Only last night did we have new guests but they were walk-ins.
We all seriously wondered if Caco could manage the hostel with the Germans gone. Just after they left for the bus-station, I asked Caco if he had taken the keys back from the Germans. He let out a scream and ran out to chase after the Germans. Later, he returned with the keys and pantingly told me that when the hostel was opened two months ago, he had twelve keys, and now, only three were left. Yeah, we should not worry, they would do a good job running their hostel.
I arrived at a yet another very windy and cold Chilean town, Puerto Natales. Maybe even windier and colder than what I remembered of Punta Arenas. And this was supposed to be SUMMER!
I made arrangements for my boat trip to Puerto Montt by ferry in two weeks’ time and had a discussion with Hurben, my hostel owner, about the Torres del Paine hike. He suggested I do it alone by renting a tent and a stove and bringing my own food. Urrmmm… I was not sure if I could do it but I would worry about that later. Tomorrow, I wanted to cross back into Argentina to visit a few places first, before returning to do the Torres del Paine trek.
When I was out about in town, I could not really go far for the wind was really very strong. It was better to stay huddled in a café or the hostel. At a café, I overheard a group of Western tourists, very seriously and studiously discussing the Torres del Paine hike, commenting about ‘4 hours on this trail’, and ‘the contours looked steep here’.
Actually, for a while now, since I arrived in Punta Arenas, I had already began to feel that the backpackers here appeared to be all out for an expedition, very equipped for trekking. Afterall, they had flown all the way from Europe purely to do some serious hikings. Most had gigantic backpacks, with rolled-up tents, mattresses, warm sleeping bags and other high-tech gears tied to them. Many also had the mean-looking walking poles, which if not used properly, could take an eye or two out. At every free time, they could be spotted poring over hiking maps, mapping out trails and discussing their routes. All very SERIOUS.
I bit into my bread and considered about ME. Gee… I, thoroughly ill-equipped, seemed to be heading off to do some trekking with nothing but a backpack of optimism.
Puerto Natales, CHILE to El Chaltén, ARGENTINA - 04 january 2003
Long day of travel today as I crossed the border back to Argentina. Strange that after the border, the clouds disappeared and the sky was beautifully blue. A huge difference from Puerto Natales.
We stopped at a toilet / snack stop in the middle of nowhere. I know I am repeating myself but the wind was really, really vicious. I did not walk back to the bus later. I kinda floated-landed-floated-landed.
As I looked out of the window and saw the whipping wind thrashing the scrublands, I realised this must be the part of the world where the locals had twenty different names for ‘wind’ and if I mentioned ‘árbol’ [tree] to them, they would need to look it up in the dictionary for they had long forgotten that trees exist on this planet.
We arrived at El Calafate, near the famous Argentinian glaciers, 7½ hours later. I bought another bus-ticket out to El Chaltén later this evening. Again, the journey to El Chaltén was through barren, wind-swept moonscape. However, the sky was so crisp and clear that day that when we were perhaps more than 100 km from El Chaltén, we were able to spot some sudden pointy intrusions from the plains - the mountains of Cerro Torres and Fitzroy in the distance.
Gosh, they were just spectacular, even from such a distance. Amidst the flatlands, it was weird to see such sharp peaks jutting out suddenly. That was why some mountains were named after impressive figures of our past and others are simply known as ‘mere mountains’.
El Chaltén, ARGENTINA - 05 january 2003
Such was my luck that today, the selected day for my hike to view Mount Fitzroy, it was cloudy the entire morning.
The clouds nested around Mount Fitzroy the entire time I was heading towards it, never quite lifting away. I was walking with Britta, a Canadian, who did not mind some company. The majority of the hike was through rather easy flattish woods. It was gorgeous all around, with pine trees and reddish shrubs and glaciers and snowy mountains in the distance.
The last bit of the hike, about 1 hour or so, was up a hill, rather steep and stony the entire way. I got really winded in a while. Seriously, can I do the Torres del Paine hike by myself?
But, naturally, once you reached the top, the reward was stupendous and you forget all the pains and troubles at once. Mount Fitzroy and company were picture-perfect behind Lago a los Tres, a glacier lake. OK, they would be picture-perfect if the clouds would lift. We stayed up there for more than an hour, basking in the radiant beauty of the surrounding mountains and the icy lake, waiting and waiting for the clouds.
Finally, we did a few snappies, filled up our bottles with glacier water and embarked on the walk down.
On the way back, we kept turning around to look at Mount Fitzroy. Slowly, the clouds WERE lifting! At each strategic spot, we took a picture, just in case this was the BEST Mount Fitzroy we could get. Actually, by then, I thought, with the clouds almost floating away, some parts of it clinging to the mountain, the tail-ends of it fluttering in the wind, somewhat caressing the sky… it actually made Mount Fitzroy look alive!
In the end, we probably had enough Mount Fitzroy photos to last a lifetime. Well, I was thoroughly impressed by the immense beauty of the park. Gosh, how can you NOT LOVE this country!!! No wonder they make great calendars.
El Chaltén to El Calafate, ARGENTINA - 06 january 2003
Today, heading out of El Chaltén, the sky was once again clear, cloudless and wondrously blue. Oh well. Mount Fitzroy posed eternally and stoically in the background as I departed.
Back in El Calafate that afternoon, I walked around the touristy little town and poked my nose into those touristy little shops selling touristy little souvenirs.
Now back in Argentina, which was cheaper than Chile, I decided to purchase some grocery supplies for my Torres del Paine hike which I still was not sure if I could do it.
El Calafate, ARGENTINA - 07 january 2003
I joined an excursion to do a minitrekking on Perito Moreno Glacier today. We were all bundled into a huge tourist bus and it spun through the woods and mountains for about 2 hours before turning a corner and lo and behold, the VERY IMPRESSIVE Perito Moreno Glacier stretched out ahead of us! What a VIEW!
Then, we were transported to a ferry that brought us to the western end of the glacier.
We were met by dashing-looking glacier-trekking guides. All of them were wearing cool sun-shades, were dressed in cool blue jackets, were slightly unshaven. They were just posing by the rocks, muttering ‘Buen dia’ [Good morning] and ‘Hola’ [Hello] and looking dashing.
They reminded me of the dashing-looking abseiling guides I had in Bonito, Brazil. Guess it came with the job description… Only the dashing-lookings need apply.
Luki, our English-speaking and dashing-looking guide, proceeded to explain how glaciers are formed to us English-speakers. The group of ice here in Southern Patagonia is the third largest in the world, after Antarctica and Greenland. The ice here is not very old, perhaps four or five centuries old, but it was difficult to estimate. See? Despite being slightly distracted, I paid attention.
Just then, we heard a crack and a groan and some chunks of ice fell off round the corner. It created a series of waves that washed up to our feet.
We donned crampons and followed José, another dashing-looking dude, up the undulating ice. It was not very difficult to walk on ice, with crampons. Just stomp around. It was better to walk with feet apart and flat-down.
Occasionally, there were deep, blue, beautiful crevices or holes inside the glacier. The ‘blueness’ was an optical illusion caused by the lack of oxygen in the ice further below.
When we were done, we were brought to another viewpoint right in front of the HUGE glacier. It was really very impressive. How blue it all looked. I could not believe I was staring right at a glacier!! I had long since run out of adjectives. I waited for the chance to see a whole wall of ice fall off. So, whenever there was a crack and a groan, we all looked around desperately, “Where? Where?” It was a AMAZING excursion. I probably had enough glacier photos to last two lifetimes.
El Calafate, ARGENTINA to Puerto Natales, CHILE - 08 january 2003
We crossed the border back to Chile. The Customs guys at the Chilean border wanted to check our bags. Ooops. We were not supposed to bring in fruits, meat and some stuff. I was not sure if the groceries I picked up were alright. He rummaged through my bag, fondled my cans of pate and my packet of rice and said nothing. He missed my carton of Dulce de leche (but of course!). Phew.
Puerto Natales, CHILE - 09 january 2003
I bought more groceries, rented a one-man tent and a stove, shopped around and found a cheap canister of gas and shoved everything into my backpack. Yet, I still was not sure if I could do the Torres del Paine hike myself.
By evening, I chatted with a Swiss couple, Thomas and Silvie, and a Dutch girl, Hannake, in the hostel. Thomas and Silvie were also heading to Torres del Paine tomorrow. Hanna was waiting for some Dutch friends to show up tonight and they would hit Torres del Paine the day after.
Thomas: “Do you have rain gear?”
Me: “Just a jacket.”
Silvie: “Nothing for your pants??”
Me: “No… nothing.”
Thomas: “Oh, everyone on the trip says it will definitely RAIN and RAIN!”
Silvie: “How about thermal underwear?”
Me: “Nope, I don’t have that either.”
Silvie, concerned: “But it will be VERY COLD!”
Thomas: “What temperature can your sleeping bag take?”
Me: “It says on the label 1°C to 8°C.”
Thomas, now very concerned: “Oh no… That means you will only be barely comfortable at 8°C. It is not warm enough.”
Hanna: “WHAT? You don’t even have a map???”
Me: “Well. No. I suppose I can borrow, if I want.”
The three were very sweet and very kind and very concerned for me. I knew I was ill-equipped but I just did not possess the fancy gears that Europeans do and I could not BUY everything.
They have these gizmos because they are experienced hikers and they come from cold countries and use them anyway. For my tropical country - Sarong? Yes… Cute spaghetti-straped sundresses? Yes… Thermal underwear? Afraid not.
I guessed they probably said a silent prayer for me that evening.
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