The Hitchhiker's Guide to Patagonia

Flexibility is a good thing. Especially when you realize you don't want to drive another kilometer on gravel. After our trip North, our little KIA was rather despised for its lack of shocks and persistant carb and gas tank problems. However, surprising everyone, the little car made it almost 3000 km over some of the most rugged terrain in the world and never broke down once. Now, in Coyhaique, we decided to say goodbye to our not-so-dear little car and continue by foot, which really means via hitch hiking and bus.

Because we had a surplus of gear that is not so light, we decided to try and sell some of it. When we were unsuccessful finding a used gear shop, I suggested we lay out our wares in the plaza. The response was better than we ever expected. The gear sold at the cost of new gear in the states and we were able to slim down to a manageable load.

We also decided to change up the travel arrangements a bit. When Mike and I expressed doubts about reaching Peru, Steph decided to break off and bus strait up to Lima. Mike and I will continue North at a slower pace, with some white water rafting and mountaineering in the near future.

To catch a bus, Steph and I left Mike in Coyhaique to finish his laundry and hitch hiked 5 hours north to the cross roads community of La Junta. We had great success finding a ride and we had a great view of the senery on the way to our destination.

The climate has changed drastically since leaving Argentina. The dry pampas has turned into a lush, dense rainforest, hanging off sheer granite cliffs and clogging claustrophobic canyons. Winding, muddy roads replaced the rocky, straight roads of La Cuarenta and riding in a truck with proper shocks was glorious.

The second ride we had was truly an experience. The Chilean was an off duty Carabinero (Chilean police), who was driving to his residence in La Junta. Half way through the trip we stopped on the side of the road and pulled an assortment of small trees from the ground. He explained he needed them for his garden and we stopped once more to ensure we had enough. He also offered us homemade bread with cheese and peach juice. The juice here is delicious! So many varieties and they are all at least 50% fruit juice. We arrived in La Junta late last night and our driver took us strait to a campsite he knew.

Steph left early in the morning and I was stuck hitch hiking back south to meet Mike in Puyuhuapi. I walked 10km before I was picked up, but the rest of the drive only took 30 minutes. Now I'm waiting for Mike at the tourist center. I'm not sure if we will stay long, but from what I hear there is a kayak trip to a hot spring that may be fun...

Capillas de Marmol and the Worst Drive Ever

Late in the afternoon on Monday, a Swiss couple drove into Bajo Caracoles in a blue van with a Vans Warped Tour sticker adorning the side. The had driven from Switzerland to India and now were traveling north to Canada. After a bit of small talk I brought up our problem and they said they had extra gas. They sold it to us as a great rate and we were off...well Steph and I were anyways, Mike was still hitchhiking in no man's land somewhere. Luckily, we saw him in his ride an hour down the road and we stopped and made the switch.

Back on the road again, we made good time to Perito Moreno since the majority was paved. After lunch and a fill up, we passed through Los Antigous and across the border, once again in Chile. That night we slept on a breakwater for Lago Buenos Aires, the second largest lake in South America. It is also the prettiest lake I have ever seen, saphire blue water contained by towering mountains.

The next day we woke up early and set off for Puerto Rio Tranquillo along a washboard road from hell. The majority of the time we maintained just above 20 km/hr up and down steep inclines that were cut through the sandstone, gravel, and marble mountains. It was a gorgeous and dangerous route with crumbling cliffs and narrow tunnels that followed the lake hundreds of kilometers around the perimeter.

We reached our destination 7 hours later, only traveling 200 km. The small town of Puerto Rio Tranqillo is a small community along the lakeside thats main attraction are the Capillas de Marmol, a conspicuous formation of marble caves and islands. We found a tour operator that afternoon and went out for 10 dollars per person. The trip was fantastic! The 20 ft skiff explored cavern passages that were hardly wide enough for navigation. The white marble made a beautiful contrast with the impossibly blue water. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.

After we rotated our tires and camped for the night, we set of on our last 200km before pavement. The trip was worse than the previous day and we crossed our fingers since our back two tires were showing wires. Driving in this manner was physically exhausting and near the end of the day we felt like we were coming back from a multi day trek. We were so excited to see pavement that we celebrated with jet landing noises and faux radio calls requesting permission to land. Coyhaique was still 94 km away, but on pavement we didn't mind.

Climbing through the mountain pass we had an unexpected treat. Right in front of us, not even 15 feet away, was an huemul, the rare andean deer. Mike knew a park ranger in Chalten that had been there for 8 years and had not seen one and many think they no longer exist. Official estimates put the number at less than a few thousand in the entire region of Patagonia and here was one in front of us! Mike immediately jumped out of the car exclaiming "holy shit, it's an huemul!" and quickly pursued it up the steep mountain. The huemul evaded him, but not after he snapped a mediocre picture of the fabled beast. After we were on our way again, he announced his time in Patagonia is complete.

Arriving in Coyhaique we decided to sell the car and continue by hitchhiking and bus. The car could not handle much more of the Caraterra Austral and we found a dealer that would buy the vehicle, shocks and leaking gas tank included. We decided to off load some of our bulkier items in the plaza which was much more successful than we imagined. Most of the items we sold for what they would cost new in the states. We will do our laundry, then head north to Puyuhapi and beyond. With some luck we will be in Santiago (and the start of our real mountaineering) within a few days.

I am excited to put some mileage behind us and I feel like I have seen some of the best of Patagonia in the last month. The high Andes lie ahead of us, with peaks reaching 22 thousand feet. This next chapter will be an adventurous one.

Northbound: Road Food and Less Scrumptious Issues

On the 23rd of March, with a full tank of gas, we departed the little town of Chalten, and ended a 2 week long chapter of our journey. We drive north bound over Route 40 or "La Cuarenta", Argentina's famous road connecting Patagonia to the rest of the country. The anxiety is high since the car is still not in great working condition. A severe worry is also the state of the road. Route 40 has nice paved secrions, but also sections that look like someone burried a thousand softballs halfway in the ground. Needless to say, this condition nearly rattles our poor little car to death. There are hundreds of kilometers of road inbetween us and the next living person and the going is slow, sometimes dropping under 20 km per hour. We have the time though, and our next destination will be worth it (more on that later).

Nevertheless, it feels good to be on the road again. The pampas here, though desolate, have a wild beauty to them. Wild animals are plentyful here and we drive past herds of sheep, and guanacos as well as rheas, ostrich like birds that are maybe three feet tall. The pampas are a land of plateus and grass and there is not much shelter to be found. Last night we spent the night in a concrete drainage tunnel that cut under the road. We blocked the other end with Mike's old 15 dollar tent and we had quite the cozy shelter, although, no view of the stars.

For anyone we has not seen stars beyond the lights of human civilization, you cannot imagine what you are missing. Anyone who has, would describe a peppering of colors which reaches its peak in the Milky Way. Blues and reds join other white stars that twinkle intensely in the cold desert atmosphere. If it were not for the strength of the wind, the sky would be a much better backdrop, but since we want sleep, the concrete tunnel will do.

One of the pleasures of being on the road is cooking meals. In Punta Arenas we purchased a gas stove and wok and have used them to create some delicious meals. Last night we stirfried red and green peppers with onions, mushrooms and chorizo to put on French bread. Past meals include herring fillets and rice in curry and a dill cream sauce over bowtie pasta and fish. Breakfasts often consist of oatmeal or leftovers from last night along with peach marmalade and dulce de leche. Hot water makes coffee or hot chocolate and we have a well rounded meal.

500 km from El Chalten is the dusty settlement of Bajo Caracoles. The "town" consists of a hotel and a hostel. Since it is the only gas for 500 km it was a vital stop on our journey. Unfortunately they were out of gas and so this is where I am writing you from. Somehow, no one knows when the next shipment of gas will come in so Mike hitched a ride 120 km North to Perito Moreno. As of now we are waiting for him to return. La Cuarenta is notoriously slow this time of the season and only a handful of cars will pass in a day.

Another traveler had some luck southbound earlier. Last night a young woman approached me and introduced herself as Julia (pronounced you-lee-ah). She was a from Sweeden and had spent the last year and a half in Buenos Aires and traveling all over the continent. Carrying a small backpack and a grocery bag, she looked ill prepared to be traveling alone. She asked if we were heading south and when I told her north, and we were out of fuel anyways, she asked to stay with us for the night (the hostel was full and the hotel cost too much). I donated my sleeping pad and we got a great night sleep under the stars on a relatively windless night in Patagonia. This morning she found a quick ride south to El Calafate and we said our goodbyes.

The trip has been full of short friendships that seem to involve more than run of the mill encounters that happen in the states. Travelers here seem to be united under a common goal and are naturally outgoing. We spent an afternoon with Jordy, a Dutch traveler we picked up before arriving in Chalten. He contributed some produce to our lunch and we ate in the middle of a brown desert, by a crystal blue river and abandoned mud houses. Nora was a traveler from Denmark and we talked for a few hours about traveling, politics and culture while I was making dinner at a hostel in Chalten. I've also met people from Isreal, Germany, South Africa, Australia and France while traveling and on the trail.

We have a long way to go! Stay tuned!

The Southern Continental Icefield and a Lot of Wind

Thinking back on a trek is an odd thing. It seems far in the past but at the same time the experiences are fresh. This is how I feel now, sitting at a bar in Chalten, writing this post.

Saturday we set of on a four day trek along the Camping del Helio Sur, or the Southern Continental Ice Field. The "Vuelta de Huemul" is a multi day trek that leads over glaciers and mountain passes. Sometimes there is a well established trail, often there is not.

The first day was one over rolling hills towards glaciated peaks. All three of us left at different times so the first day's hike was in solitude. It was a bright sunny day and the sunlight reflected off the golden grass waving in the wind. The trail meandered through field and forest. The hike was pleasant, even with the windy nip in the air. Wind blowing off a glacier can chill you to the bone. At times the trail would vanish, only to be resumed a few hundred meters down the mountain. All in all the day was incredible, wild cows grazed under the shadows of the mountains that seemed to follow you along as you walked. The day ended at Laguna Torro, at a nice campsite under the shadow of a glacier, sheltered from the wind.

The next day started late. It would be a relatively short day, albeit difficult. We set out following a group of French trekkers to the tyrolean traverse spanning a gorge and a glacial river. They seemed confused and we went ahead and started the crossing. The tyrolean spanned a fifty foot gorge which funneled a gurgling, churning mass of water through a pinch point in the rocks. All harnessed up, I went first. The metal cable and pulley made the traverse very fun. Reaching the other side, I tied off and disconnected myself from the pulley which Mike pulled back via a length of paracord. Next came Steph, and after her, a few from the French party requested the use of our harnesses. We obliged, and Mike set them up while I helped them off. In all the traverse took about an hour but it was worth it, we had made aome new friends and helped some fellow trekkers. The day was just starting, however and we spent the next hour or two picking our way through the glacier. We had no crampons but the surface was covered with small rocks and dirt and it made walking easier. We explored an ice cave and then started the ascent to Paso del Viento, a 1400 meter pass that we would spend the next two hours climbing.
The view that greeted us at the top of Paso del Viento was well worth it. The vast expanse of the Southern Continental Ice Field stretched out before us. A mere fraction on the sixteen-thousand square kilometer ice field was visible, dotted by ten thousand foot mountains that looked like small islands. The sea of ice was gathered into Glacier Viedma, which we now walked towards. The day ended at a quaint refugio near a tranquil lake tucked in a cleft of the mountains. The local calafate berries grew everwhere and they reminded me of a more tart blueberry. The rest of the ground was covered by red berries which when ripe, tasted like grapes. I slept well that night, after a dinner of empanadas and dulce de leche and reading a few chapters in Acts.

The third day was by far the most windy. We tramped over the side of the mountain and the wind would often push us to a knee or throw us off balance. Many times it was at our backs and would push us up the mountain. Walking against the gale was near impossible. After summiting our final pass we decended 700 meters in less than a half kilometer. It was the steepest trail I had ever walked and we spent most our our time sliding down it. At the bottom and exhausted we settled down on the gravely beach alongside Lago Viedma. Iceburgs floated by that were a saphire blue with white stripes and the turquoise lake reflected the pinks and oranges of the sunset. That night we slept out under the stars and the wind could not dampen the awe and blessing I felt as I stared into the heavens from a rocky beach far from civilization in Patagonia.

This morning I awoke to the wind, which is by far a better alarm clock then my watch and I ate my apple and dulce de leche (yeah I'm addicted) while enjoying the scenery. The 100 foot wall of ice that is Glacier Viedma made the perfect back drop to my breakfast. I finished early so I set of by myself for the last day. As I was walking up the mountain the wind would kick up a spray across the lake and the sun created a flash of refracted light that was unlike any rainbow I had ever seen. These occured all morning and I was speechless. I walked with out a trail for the majority of the day, following the coast along the rolling hills. I followed wild cow trails and had to climb out of a gorge more than once. Climbing while you are alone is much more of a humbling experience, for a slip here and it would be unlikely Mike and Steph would even walk within ear shot. Careful consideration paid off, however, and I walked down to the river. On the way down I passed several full cow carcasses and many bones, victims of falls, I thought. An old suspension bridge lay in ruins over the river and I walked towards the estuary to find a place to cross. The water was cold and fast and I almost lost my vibram shoes more than once. After the crossing was lunch and a quick jaunt out to the road. I was picked up quickly by a kind couple from Buenos Aires and our conversation was a jovial mix of broken Spanish and English all the way to Chalten.

Now I am sitting here, waiting on Mike and Steph and reflecting on the past few days with a liter of Quilmes, the local Argentinan beer. Life is good. Salud, amigos!

The Elusive Cerro Solo

Over the past week we have spent 5 nights on the mountain. The weather has been very good (until today) and we had two great windows of opportunity to climb Cerro Solo, a glaciated peak overlooking Fitzroy, Cerro Torre and the rest of Chalten.

The route has been elusive. The first attempt we traversed the right side of the mountain. A tight length of rope spanned a blue, glacial river and we crossed upside down, clipped into our harnesses, and pulling ourselves along. Luckily it separated us from the crowd, which is just as well. We set off on a terrible trek over scree and crumbling rocks trying to find the way. Time and time again we tried to find a route over the cliffs and to the glacier but we were unable. We climbed high into the a pass which overlooked the Southern Patagonian ice fields, one of the largest in the world, but still did not find a way. Instead we found ourselves on glacial ice which was sturdy under our crampons but unerving when we traveled close to crevases which opened many meters into the blue abyss. The journey back that day was exhausting and we found ourselves in several sketchy situations. One particular time I found myself scampering on my hands and feet across a scree field of small stones and sand when, without warning the thin layer of stones gave away to solid ice and I realized I was on the side of a glacier without crampons. Luckily I had momentum to make it to the other side and I breathlessly warned Mike and Steph to go around. We made it back to camp that night right as it was getting dark, it had rained for the past hour but luckily we had found the trail by then and had gotten off the glacier.

The days inbetween our next attempt were spent making a quick trip into town to resupply and resting our tired bodies. My whole body was sufficiently sore so we rested an entire day up on the mountain. The beautiful weather made it perfect for a couple short hikes that further showcased the fantastic scenery.

I had brought a New Testament bible on the trail that my dad had given me before I left and I decided to read it through. In the past four days I have completly read through the gospels. If I am to be honest, I had not read much scripture for a very long time. It was refreshing to discover it anew, although sometimes it was a bit repetitive. Several parts leaped out at me, one being that Jesus went into the wilderness when he prayed: (Mark 6:46, Luke 6:12, Luke 9:26) "So He (Jesus) Himself often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed." Luke 5:16. There is something about the wild, far from man made comforts and creations that makes you feel close with God. Jesus knew this, and I must agree. I feel alive here, less suffocated by the every day worries of civilization. "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." Matt 7:34. These things I have thought about during our rest which included many hours of sleep and homemade empanadas we had made a couple days before.

Our second attempt fared much better and we made it up a spur and high into the jagged cliffs which defended the mountain's glacier. The climbing here was slow and steep. Electing to stay off the unstable scree that never gave sure footing, we climbed high into the cliffs. Luckily the climbing was mostly easy and aside from our high exposure, relativly safe. Still, no matter how many spires we traversed, we could still not find a path to the glacier. Our final push brought us to the top of this towering wall of rock and scree, only to look over the saddle and stare across an empty expanse of air, the glacier crumbling and falling a thousand vertical feet to a turquoise, glaciated lake below. Dejected, we sat down and decided to call of the attempt. We took advantage of the extra time by snapping some pictures and enjoying the sun and shelter from the wind high on our perch. At that moment, not reaching the top was alright. We were alone, with vistas of glaciers and some of the most unique mountains on the face of the earth. I was content.

The trip back down passed quickly and we even got to ski down a deep scree field, descending hundreds of feet in minutes. Back at camp that night the weather degraded and we ended up walking to our next campsite in an odd mix of sun and rain. The next day was worse however and we walked back to town soaked.

Earlier today we walked to a water fall with some volunteers that work for the park. We had the traditional Argentine Matte which is a type of tea sipped through a straw/sieve. We sat at the base of the water fall for 2 hours, passing around the Matte, playing guitar and eating bread. It was one of my favorite experiences so far. Dinner tonight for Steph's birthday (she's 24!) was incredible, and the local craft beer was very delicious and unique. After a quick brunch (we are making desayuno americano or American breakfast for our Argentine friends) we are off again Saturday morning for a multi day trek that will take us over glaciers and through raging glacial rivers...it should be a blast!

As always, thanks for reading and hasta luego!

Windsurfing into Argentina!

Yesterday we hit a milestone! Finally, the 5th mechanic we visited knew a thing or two about carburators. During his test drive the car stalled out in the middle of the Costenara, a major, multi-laned highway in the heart of Punta Arenas. Immediately he jumped out of the car in the middle of traffic and started beating the carburator for all he was worth. After that it started up and ran fine. He told us we had a dirty. Carburator and it needed to be cleaned, but hitting it would help in the mean time (you can't make stuff like this up).

So off we set to our first stop along the way, Parque Nacional Pakistan Aike, a small, volcanic national park on the border of Argentina.

A few hours later when we arrived, we were met at the entrance by a portly park ranger who warned us about "el puma". Laughing we drove to the first trail head. The trail took us by two extinct volcanic craters that were nestled amid a twisted landscape of volcanic rock and lava tubes snaking through the ground like giant mole tunnels. The craters themselves had a green, Spanish moss like lichen draping from the jagged walls.

It was a desolate and windy wasteland with no trees but a few wild animals. The local guanaco was there in force as were some jackrabbits. We were charged by an angry skunk (quite terrifying) and there were plenty of chattering birds.

After a night of rain and a beautiful warm morning we set off for Argentina. The border crossing was smooth and we were making decent time towards Rio Gallegos. At least until we ran out of gas. At our last fill up we never filled up our reserve tank and that combined with a small turn around meant we were about 20 km short of a gas station. Rides were scarce, and 20 km was a long way to push a car.

About that time I wondered about the wind. It was sustained and very blustery. So blustery that it made it difficult to walk against it. I proposed we set a rainfly out the window and see if we could get the car to move. What started off as a joke soon became our best option and we started experimentation with different types of sail configuration. On the gravel, the car didn't move, but after a push and being back on the pavement, we were off! Mike sat in the window while Steph held the sail from her side and I drove. I also opened my door which would substantially boost our top speed. Along the flats we managed to hit 25km per hour, a respectable speed for a wind driven car. Or top speed was 45km per hour down a small hill and we made it about 9km to a police station in under 45 minutes. Along the way we got many thumbs up, smiles and looks of disbelief as we sailed our little car into Rio Gallegos.

In Gallegos we found a mehanic to clean our carb and do a bit of maintainance on our shock (it included cutting them amart with a grinder and welding them back together...) and we camped along the road with no tent, under a full moon and clear sky. In the morning after a few friendly greetings from passing trucks we set off for El Chalten, a long stop on our journey and the highlight of Patagonia.

Along the way we picked up a Dutch hitchhiker named Jordy who we drove 160 km to Chalten. Along we way we stopped by a glacially fed river that sliced through the brown dusty landscape like a bright blue ribbon and cooked lunch and shared beer along its banks.

As we approached Chalten, Fitzroy towered in the distance. I wish I could describe exactly how it looked, but words would be an injustice. Chalten is beautiful and today we are setting off for a few days to summit Cerro Solo, a glaciated peak with a fanastic view of the surrounding mountains. Wish us luck!

Bubble Gum, Hospitals and the Finer Things in Life

Right now I am laying in my hammock, watching the clouds roll by and listening to small waves churn up the gravel beach. The towering mountains of Tierra del Fuego lay across the Straits of Magellanes and Steph has set out on a quick hike to the southern-most lighthouse on the continent mainland.

The quiet is soothing now, and it's a nice break from the bustle of Punta Arenas and the problems of the past week. We started off great! Steph and I spent an amazing 4 days in Torres del Paine. The weather was perfect! Sun and no wind every day. We saw the Torres, Cuernos, and Glaciares Grey during our time on the "W" circuit. We met Mike, as planned, in Puerto Natales and even found a vehicle before we were expecting to. The purchase went off without a hitch and we headed to pick up our bags in Punta Arenas. The 1993 KIA Pride had low km, great reviews and ran great, at least until about 2 hours into our trip.
A stutter interrupted our journey and we have spent the past week trying to figure out what it is. We have replaced the fuel pump, fuel filter, spark plugs and cables and we still don't have an answer. We have narrowed it down to a vacuum leak or a carburetor problem but unfortunately very few mechanics in Punta Arenas know how to work on a carb. To add to the craziness, our gas tank sprang a couple of leaks the other day. We had suspected a slow leak for a few days now and when we cleaned up the dirt on the tank the trickle turned into a steady stream. I couldn't help but laugh to myself as I sat under the car, which was pulled up on an abandoned tractor trailer ramp while gas streamed down my arm and Mike desperately implored Steph to "chew faster". Bubble gum and epoxy soon patched our tank. But even though I love working on our little Pride and I find the whole situation very amusing I am still anxious to get on the road and start our journey.

We have not been alone during our time in Punta Arenas, however. Some of Mike's friends from his days working with the Patagonian Expedition race are still in town and that is where we found ourselves last night. We met many new friends as well and even had a cookout. We should have been suspect though. It seems that when ever things are rather normal, a curve ball is about to be thrown our way. It's about 11 o'clock pm when one of the new guys we just met runs inside from being out on a walk. There is blood everywhere. Apparently he was assaulted by a few drunk locals and he took a few punches to the face. A gaping laceration about 3cm long poured blood into the bathroom sink. I rushed out to retrieve my first aid kit and Mike recommended the wound have stitches (Mike and I are both EMTs). Luckily our ailing car is more than capable of short trips to the hospital. It is almost one in the morning before we are back and everyone it planning on going out for drinks and dancing. Our injured friend went to bed with a stitched eye and three fractures in his cheek while everyone else went out (in Chile its common to go out so late). The rest of the night was a great deal of fun with new friends, loud music and fun dancing. We got in around 4 that morning and passed out on the floor.

This morning we set out again for what would be our third attempt to leave the city. We were turned back with the same problem once again and instead decided to head south to where we are now.
The disappointment of continued car trouble aside, I am very content sitting here this Sunday evening. In the morning we will limp the car back to our mechanic for a final try but right now, everything is well. I expected the adversity and I know there will be more but that is the beauty of it. There are no rules but head North, and that is what we will do, sooner or later. In fact, looking back over the past few days and where I am now. I would say that things are going quite nicely.

First sighting

The far off, snow capped mountains quickly disapeared behind a blanket of clouds as we climbed out of Santiago. The bright blue sky drew a striking contrast to the brilliant white clouds. The excitement faded, but I was more than content with a mediocre view. For several hours the cloud cover remained. I passed the time with a movie and chatting with an older couple from New York.

What I saw next snuck up one me. Contours and shapes appeared directly below our left wing. Before I knew it the sea of clouds was parted by craggy peaks and glaciated rivers of ice. The mountains seemed to reach up and touch the aircraft with vertical cliffs that could hold no snow.

The full impact of my journey set in. This is what I am here for, to explore the wildest parts of earth and test myself against them. The isolation is complete. We see no roads and no buildings, just wide open expanse. The brown terrain is dotted with dark forests and saphire blue lakes. Our journey has begun.