Tronodor and the Black Glacier (30.09.08)

The river we ate our picnic lunch by.

The river the second path ran along.

Walking to the glacier.

The view of the valley looking away from the glacier.

The black glacier - pretty cool stuff.

Today we set off to see the black glacier - Ventisquero Negro. As we didn’t know how to get there by ourselves we thought we would go on a tour that encompassed three, one hour treks (although strolls is probably a more accurate term).

I was relieved to see our fellow tour companions included some older, slightly overweight Argentineans – probably too much steak.¨Good I thought. They surely can’t be as fast at walking as Germans¨.

Cerro Tronador (the mountain where the glacier is located) is only about 20 kilometres as the crow flies from Bariloche. Naturally, the road travelled is a lot longer and it takes over two hours to get there. I am sure the scenery along the way is lovely as you drive through national park, but I fell asleep.

I woke up at our first stop. I needn’t have worried about not being able to keep up. I could have crawled faster then the pace our guide set. The first waterfall we visited was nice enough but nothing that spectacular. I was more concerned with the clouds that were setting over Tronador in the distance.

Next we stopped for lunch at a restaurant – hotel – camping ground. Jon and I had made our own lunch so we sat at a picnic table and proceeded to eat. However, just as we took our first bite, a guy popped up out of nowhere demanding three pesos for eating there. Our guide hadn’t informed us of this fee so Jon refused to pay. He argued that the guy did not look official enough to be collecting money on behalf of the hotel (he was not wearing a uniform or badge) and that because we had already paid a national park entry fee (it didn’t matter to Jon that this was a private property) he was not going to part with $1.50. Talk about being Dutch! In order to avoid a showdown and possibly having management (Jon had asked to see them) escort us off the premises, I packed up our food and dragged an unwilling Jon to the edge of the property where we ate on the other side of the fence.

After our riverside picnic, we sent on our second walk for the day. This one was far more scenic. The track made its way through a forest of bamboo (bamboo here is solid rather than hollow inside because of the cold) that grew alongside the river. It was quite beautiful and at the end of the path was another waterfall that drenched you with its spray if you got too close. It was a pity we couldn’t spend more time here as it was very tranquil and I would have liked to explore the bamboo more.

Our last walk was through the snow and around the edge of a lake to the black glacier which is just a dirty lump of ice, albeit a pretty one. It is black because the snow picks up a lot of dirt and rocks as it slides down the mountain into the lake. The glacier was a lot smaller then the others we have seen but every one is so different it is hard to get bored of them. Half of Cerro Tronador is shared with Chile so we found ourselves standing very close to the border. I was hoping to witness an avalanche (Jon was hoping to photograph one) but I didn’t get my wish. I wouldn’t have minded seeing someone other than myself fall into the lake (the snow was rather slippery along the edge) but that didn’t happen either. Despite this, it was a great day.

Once back in Bariloche, I rewarded myself for all that hard strolling by sampling more chocolate!

The Joys of Getting Lost (29.09.08)

The views from the top of Campanario Hill.

On Monday we decided to have a reasonably relaxing day and do not much at all. After a lazy start, we got on public bus number 20 which winds its way around Lake Nahuel Huapi and jumped off at the base of Campanario Hill. From the bottom you can either take a chairlift up or walk for 30 minutes and save yourself some pesos. We decided to get some exercise.

The view from the top was breathtaking (unfortunately, the photos don’t do it justice as there was a slight haze in the air which mutes all the colours). From the lookout you can see the Perito Moreno and Nahuel Huapi lakes, El Trebol lagoon, San Pedro and Llao Llao peninsulas, as well as Victoria Island, not to mention numerous snow capped mountains.

We decided (actually it was me who must claim responsibility) to take a different path for our decent. It soon became apparent that this was not the official way and we were practically sliding down the hill. It became virtually impossible to go back up so when we spied a path in the distance we made our way through the forest to it. However, as we passed bamboo thickets, it became evident that this was also not the correct way down. The track seemed to be heading in the wrong direction yet we followed it anyway thinking it would get us to the main road. It didn’t. We ended up at a small lake and had no idea as to where we were. Jon wanted to follow the hill around (goodness knows how long that would take, we had no idea how wide it was) and I wanted to retrace our steps and try and scramble back up to the top. Jon won – he declined to go mountain climbing with me.

We marched along a horse trail. I spotted giant paw prints in the mud and thought ¨Oh great! We are going to be attacked and eaten by a puma and no one knows where we are.¨ There was no sight of any pumas (I am a bit disappointed about this, although the prospect of being someone’s lunch wasn’t exciting) and eventually we came to a fork in the path. I refused to go any further. Jon finally relented and followed me back the way we came. The amusing thing was (not funny at the time) that we ended up back at the fork. We then took the bamboo path up the hill but instead of scrambling through the trees up to the lookout we kept going across the hill until we found the chairlift. We then made our way down through the forest to the road. I think the workers at the bottom were a bit surprised to see two people a bit worse for wear (I had taken a tumble) pop out of the woods no where near the designated track. Our supposed half an hour trek down took us over two hours. The day had turned out to not be quite as relaxing as we had planned for.

Note: I would just like to point out for the record that my way was a lot quicker than Jon’s proposed route no matter how much he begs to differ.

Bariloche - the Lakes District (28.09.08)

The bus trip across to Bariloche passed without any incidents. It was rather uncomfortable as we went semi-cama. Not only did this mean the seats were smaller and on and awkward angle (I spent the night doing squats - sliding down my seat, pushing myself up again, sliding down etc) but it also meant breakfast consisted of one biscuit. If you were asleep at the time they served the biscuit (or rather they threw it at you), they refused to give you one later - probably because the bus driver and his companion ate them all.

Bariloche is in the Patagonian Mountains near Chile. The town is set on the north-eastern shore of Lake Nahuel Huapi which is ringed by lofty mountain peaks. It really is very picturesque (that is when it isn’t cloudy and you can see everything) and must be extremely busy in ski season (we have just missed it although some of the runs are still open). Every second building is a hotel or hostel. There are also an over abundant supply of chocolate shops which I am slowly working my way through – the mint chocolate and milk chocolate logs (like flakes) are particularly good. However, the hot chocolate is rather disappointing.

On arrival, we checked into our hostel dorm (private rooms are ridiculously expensive) and then wandered around town. It appears that there must be some school snow package special as there are a zillion youths (look more like unkempt louts with rats tails) wandering the streets in matching ski jackets yelling chants at the tops of their lungs and working their way around the chocolate circuit as well.

The two Israeli girls who were in our room had disgusting bathroom habits. They obviously didn’t know how to work a shower curtain and one sounded like she was hocking up a fur ball in the morning – gross. Oh the joys of sharing accommodation!

Whale Spotting (27.09.08)

Mum and her little albino baby.

Today we were going to have a close encounter of the whale kind and hopefully we were going to get the perfect whale tail shot.

The beginning of our trip was rather ominous – the bus kept stalling. Eventually, about half an hour out of town it broke down all together. Thankfully, this occurred right next to a bay where female whales come to give birth. About five metres off shore (not exaggerating for once) a massive southern right whale was swimming along the coast line. I thought it had an ugly growth on its head but it turns out it was just its little (little by whale standards) albino (yep it was white) baby having swimming lessons next to it. Because babies can’t stay underwater long we had a fantastic view of them both splashing about. It was incredible.

After a while a new bus came to collect us. We all piled in and took off to Reserva Faunistica Peninsula Valdes – a really flat, bleak and dry landscape of low shrubs. We headed for over an hour across this uninspiring countryside to Caleta Valdes. Along the way we saw from the distance a family of Mara (mum, dad and two babies) – Patagonian hares. I had to buy a postcard to get a better look at them. They appear to be a hare crossed with a donkey – well sort of if you use some imagination.

At Caleta Valdes (a bay) we walked down to the beach where a group of elephant seals (looked like enormous fat slugs) were lazing about on the sand. One would occasionally move a flipper, spraying sand onto their fat bodies. Because we were late, we had just missed one of them giving birth to a black pup. There was a trail of blood along the sand and a flock of seagulls vying for the placenta and birth fluids – disgusting. Apart from this, not much else was happening down there so I wasn’t too upset that we didn’t have very long to look at the seals. They were quite amusing when they tried to move. They would drag themselves for a couple of metres and then have to rest because they were so fat. Following this we had a quick peek at some more penguins and then drove back to Puerto Pirámide in time for the whales.

Our tour guide must have been practising to be a primary school teacher as she showed us flash cards of Patagonian animals she had drawn herself. I would rather have seen the real thing. According to her, the male American ostrich is the ideal husband (she wasn’t married) as he takes care of the kids and gets the food ready, allowing the female to go shopping. This was her attempt at a joke. A funnier story she told us was how a Japanese company tried to open a penguin harvesting factory down here. They wanted to turn the cute penguins into golf gloves, oil and quite possibly sushi! Thankfully, their petition was rejected.

Puerto Pirámide is the only town on the peninsula and it is the place the whale watching boats depart from. We donned life jackets and tarpaulins (makeshift raincoats) and climbed aboard our vessel – the ugliest and oldest boat there. A tractor dragged us out to sea and then we were off. I was slightly pessimistic when the captain said whale watching was a lesson in patience (I have none of that) and that we don’t go to the whales we let them come to us. What whale in its right mind would want to do that? I thought this was a pathetic excuse in case we didn’t see any.

The first whale we saw just floated there and did nothing (for all intents and purposes it may have been dead) so we moved on… and on… and on. It seemed we were sailing past every whale that was frolicking in the water and heading to Antarctica instead. I don’t know what was going on in our captain’s mind – not much I am guessing. He was hopeless. For an hour we kept chasing ghost whales. Jon asked where the whale was and the assistant replied beneath us. I did not take any comfort in knowing there was an invisible whale somewhere beneath our boat (no doubt it was deliberately never going to surface) whilst I could see tails and flippers waving at us in the distance to the left and right of us. It was like they were beckoning us to go over and see them but our captain had other plans.

Just as I had given up seeing anything of note and was cursing the captain under my breath, Jon spotted some whales playing in the distance port side and pointed them out. We about turned and headed over. I think the captain may have suspected the crew was ready for mutiny if he didn’t find us a whale. They were amazing and we got within metres of the two of them. They were huge – about 12-15 metres long and you could see all the details on them. I was a bit scared they would tip our boat over and I would be swallowed up like Jonah but if anyone deserved to be eaten it was our stupid captain. Jon and I have decided we could run a much better whale spotting business.

Once we were back on shore one and a half hours later, we headed back to Puerto Madryn. All in all, it had turned out to be a great day of whale watching.

Patagonian Penguin Parade (26.09.08)

Checking eachother out.

I think this penguin has seen a bit of recent action.

Commersons dolphins.

Every year from September to April over half a million Magellanic penguins make their way from Brazil to Punta Tombo for a bit of hanky panky. It is the largest penguin colony outside of Antarctica and it makes the Phillip Island version look like an ametuer production.

When we arrived there I was disappointed to see a lack of armadillos (once again, the Lying Planet deceived me saying there would be some). However, there was no shortage or male penguins. Many were lying right next to the path and even on the track. Some you had to step over and at first I thought they may be dead as they didn´t seem to respond to the hordes of tourists around them. But when I poked one with a stick it became apparent they like to sleep on their bellies in any spot they feel like. Those that weren´t sunbaking were crying out at the top of their voices (like a horses whinny) trying to attract the females that were swimming to shore (they had just started arriving over the last few days). I don´t know how that awful noise carries any sex appeal but it seemed to work for some who were busy going for it metres away from a small crowd of humans and penguins who had gathered around to watch. Apparently these penguins are mates for life and meet up here with the same partner ever year for about six months until any babies produced can swim. How romantic. After this they swim back up to Rio – who can blame them, the east coast of Argentina is not exactly exotic. I´d leave as soon as possible.

After the penguin parade we headed over to Rawson to go dolphin spotting. The Commerson´s dolphins are black and white and look a bit like Orcas. They liked to tease us by diving out of the water on one side of the boat and then popping up on the other side. You were continually guessing where to point the camera and were running from side to side hoping to get the ¨money shot¨. I was relieved to see the boat didn´t tip when all 30 tourists in the rubber dinghy ran to one side for a photo.

On the way back up to Puerto Madryn we passed through Gaiman, a Welsh town in Patagonia. There is not much here but apparently Butch Cassidy found it good enough to hang out at for a few years. That is, until he decided to rob the local bank and was forced to flee. The one thing tourists seem to do is gorge themselves on Welsh tea – tea with a plate loaded with bread, jam and cakes. I didn´t know the Welsh were famous for this (nor did the girl from Wales we met). Nether-the-less, we shared one as there was nothing else to do in the town (we did wander the streets trying to find some other activity) and I can now say it was worth coming to Gaiman for... or at least making a very slight detour for.

On the Road Again (24.09.08 - 25.09.08)

Apart from saving money, I thought another good reason to catch the bus up north would be the opportunity to see the amazing landscape that is Patagonia.

The four hour drive to our bus changeover point wasn´t too bad as you passed a few mountains on the way out of El Calafate. The bus terminal at Rio Gallegos was not a very awe inspiring but thankfully we only had a few hours to kill there. We almost got stuck in this place but luckily at 5.55pm we realised the 6.00pm us to Mendoza was the one we were supposed to be on. This was no thanks to the driver. Jon had asked him earlier if a different bus was going to take us to Puerto Madryn and he had replied ¨Si¨ (yes). Consequently we had been admiring the bus out of the window for over 20 minutes before we thought we had better check with someone else. Luckily we did. Maybe the driver thought it would be amusing to see us panicking at the last minute and running out of the terminal all flustered, half dragging, half carrying our enormous backpacks. (Our packs by the way are bigger then everyone elses we have encountered on our travels. I don´t know how people pack so lightly. I really don´t think I am overdoing it).

The amazing Patagonian landscape turned out to be not so breathtaking. For 20 hours the steppe looks surprisingly similar to the Nulabor – flat, boring and nothing as far as the eye can see. I watched tv. The driver seemed to have a thing for extremely violent and graphic D grade movies. Any kids watching on the second floor of the bus would have been traumatised. It must be a South American thing. The bus to Lima showed a teenage movie with a 'ménage à trois' scene and a girl hitting her grandmother over the head and locking her in the boot, not to mention drugging her numerous times.

We arrived in Puerto Madryn the following day around lunchtime. The trip went surprisingly quickly or so it seemed. In the afternoon we walked to the end of the pier (quite a hike as it extends about 500 metres into the ocean) and watched a whale playing near us. Unfortunately it did not pose for a good tail shot, nor jump out of the water and do a back flip. I was a bit disappointed about this.

El Chalten (22.09.08 - 23.09.08)

On Monday morning we caught the bus three and a half hours north west to a very small town called El Chaltén in the 'Los Glaciars National Park'. The town survives on tourism, summer being the peak season. Being there in Spring, El Chaltén was pretty dead which is good for those of us without a coffee and cake addiction – there was only two hostels/hotels open and one restaurant. El Chaltén and Los Glaciars National Park offer breath taking scenery, particularly that of the two big crags: 'Cerro Fitz Roy (3405) and Cerro Torre (3102), each surrounded by glaciers and semi frozen lakes.

The bus took us to the national park office where an enthusiastic park ranger emphatically urged us not to 'litter, smoke or defecate' in the national park.

Note: Argentina (as it strives to become a 1st world nation) is trying to arrest the notion that public defecation (PD) is a socialist right inspired by the countercultural Marxist Che Guevara. PD still remains a social norm (almost elevated to one of those twisted pagan/catholic rites) in Peru and Bolivia.

Having heard the 'ground-rules' we drove the remaining short distance to the hostel (incidently this was the only hostel we have ever visited to have 'Absolutely Forbade the use of Sleeping Bags' – we later learnt this was due to an epidemic of bed-bugs though the hotelier confusingly called them 'bed-bags' – 'an infestation of 'bed-bags'?'), checked in and repacked for the hike to Cerro Torre.

The walk to Cerro Torre was indicated to be a 6-hour return journey. As we passed several 'progress signs' we soon realized the average Argentinian must have run the track. Also slowing our progress was mud, more mud but frozen, and snow/ice on the track. We didn't see much in the way of wildlife although Karyn saw a flash of yellow in the trees. She has since convinced herself she saw a puma, although a German Shepard is more likely. We passed through amazing scenery and three-and-a-half hous later we climbed the last embankment over-looking the shores of Lago Torre, the frozen lake that lies at the base of Cerro Torre. It was breathtaking: snow capped peaks and the glacier both reflected on the waters of the lake. The river that drains from Cerro Torra can be crossed only via a cable strung up between two rocks. Two hard-core trekkers had tied themselves into harnesses with pulleys, winching themselves over the freezing river. Deciding against looting their belongings while they helplessly dangled above the river, we turned back for El Chaltèn, hoping to be back before sunset.

The next morning, having eventually found an open café and bakery for breakfast we set off for the second day of sightseeing in El Chaltén: trek to the mighty and frozen Cerro Fitz Roy. The weather was shitty in the morning and got worse as the day progressed. All day we couldn´t actually get a view of Fitz Roy through the clouds. Despite the horrid weather the scenery was beautiful and we got a glimpse of another glacier. We walked back in light rain, stopped to photograph some wood-peckers, and caught the evening bus back to El Calefaté.