if the stone is moving it is a little windy
The town of El Chalten lies on the border of Argentina's Parque Nacional Los Glaciares, in a valley in the midst of Andes, on the banks of the Rio De Las Vueltas and just north of Lago Viedma. To the west, behind the sharp-spired peaks of Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre, lies the Southern Icefields, the third largest ice cap in the world behind Antarctica and Greenland. To the north is El Lago Del Desierto and the Chilean border. El Chalten is one of the youngest towns in Argentina, settled by climbers and trekkers who've been beguiled by the peaks and the scenery. Three years ago, you could only get here by a bumpy five hour bus ride that was mostly on dirt roads. The town's first ATM was installed here sometime in the last couple of months. It still doesn't have cell service.
We arrived here in the late afternoon, having shared a minibus with a group of Brazilians and Dutch from the airport at El Calafate. Our plan was relatively straightforward: scout the town and pickup cooking fuel, groceries and other supplies, then drop off unneeded bags at our hotel, hit the trail, hike for 6km, then make camp near Laguna Torre. With it being late afternoon, I was a little nervous about getting to the campsite before dark, but had those anxieties dispelled by Roxana, our exuberantly cheerful hotelkeeper at Lunajuim.
"Not to worry," she said, "Here it is not dark until 10 o'clock. You have plenty of time. Have you checked the weather report?"
click on image to get the translation
I admitted that I had not. The mercurial nature of Patagonian weather seemed to render anything but short-term weather research futile. Still, here we were on the precipice of our trip, and getting a forecast seemed wise. Roxana pulled up WindGURU on her terminal and her brow furrowed momentarily.
"You see this? This is low pressure. Coming in tomorrow afternoon. It means a storm with an average of ... do you use metric? Si? ... average of 60 kilometers per hour and gusts of 100 kilometers."
I pulled out our trail map from my pack and unfolded it on the checkin counter, and traced our path for Roxana. Our intention was to do a triangle route through the park, head west and camping at Campamiento Agostini, with a possible sidetrek to the lookout at Laguna Torre, then backtracking a bit before heading north to Campamiento Poincenot and then doing a side trek to Laguna De Los Tres; then wrapping up everything on our third day and heading south east to return to El Chalten.
"This part on your first day is ok," she said, offering her advice, "The campsite is sheltered. Here, on your next day, is a little open but the camp is also very good. This part ..."
... her fingers traced the 1 km side trek to Laguna De Los Tres.
"... is very steep and very exposed. If the weather is bad, do not go here."
Still, the weather was not bad yet, and after Roxana gave us a map of the town with the local ranger station and supermarket handily penciled in, silentq talked it over on our walk. At the ranger station the NOAA forecast confirmed that a storm was going to roll in tomorrow, and it was likely that many of the outfitters were going to cancel their outings due to the weather. Realizing that delaying likely meant that we were going to waste a day cooling our heels in El Chalten, we opted to grab some bread, cheese and water from the supermarket along with white gas from the camping store next door then go for it anyway.
The initial stretch of the hike was moderately uphill but not very long. Compared to what we would normally hike in the White Mountains, this wasn't bad at all, but the scenery was stunning. Most of the folks we saw were day trekkers on their way back into town, and we exchanged a few 'Holas' as we crossed paths with them. An older couple kept on passing or being passed by us, but aside from them, we hardly saw anyone else heading out in our direction.
We'd stop from time to time to take photos of each other and peer at the clouds wisping over us. El Chalten has two famous peaks -- the granite needle of Cerro Torre and the open palm of Mt. Fitz Roy. The Fitz Roy range is immortalized as the logo of the Patagonia clothing company, for it was here that Yvon Chouinard and Doug Tompkins ended their cross continental trip shortly before both of them went on to build Patagonia and the North Face. However, as the weather turned stormy, both of these peaks would stay wreathed in snow.
photos by silentq
eventually, we made it to Mirador Torre, a lookout that took in the majestic valley of the Rio Fitz Roy. Before a setting sun was the ridgeline of Loma del Pliegue Tumbado, the peak of Cerro Solo, and further still, veiled in mist and fog, Glacier Torre. The older couple who had been pacing us stopped here to break out their mate cups and have a brew while revelling in the splendor of it all.
We pressed on from here, crossing a meadow then circuiting around a small peat bog before arriving at our campsite. The sun had already descended past the ridgeline, veiling us in twilight shadow. As we walked, we'd see flecks of white in the air that we thought of as dust or pollen until we recognized it as flurries. It was cold enough that if the storm brought rain, that rain would comes as snow. The wind had picked up as night fell, but the area was nestled in a nice little hollow in the terrain, shielding us from the worst of it.
After setting up camp, I walked down to the river to get water for dinner. The Rio Fitz Roy is fed by glacial runoff from Laguna Torre, uninterrupted by pollution or waste. I dipped my water bottle into the water and it came up clear and pure. Sipping it, I could understand how some people could just stay here. If water is one of the fundamental components of civilization, the birth reason for nearly every settlement of the modern world, then this place was way ahead of a lot of other locales. Living off the land, surrounded by beauty; it did not seem like such a bad life.