Trekking in the High Andes

Santiago is nice. It has the eye catching architecture, street side vendors, and all modern ameneties you would expect to find in a city in the states. Prices are cheap compared to the rest of Patagonia and public transportation is plentiful. Santiago is also big: over 7 million people in the metropolitan area. The haze from traffic clogs the air and turns the towering mountains surrounding the city into ghosts, faintly visible overhead. People are everywhere and most seem to be engaged in the national Chilean pass time of sucking face. Seriously, in every plaza, on every corner and at every bus stop you can find a couple lost in each other's eyes and in the middle of a 20 minute make out session, tounge and all. Often there are more than one. The people here have no qualms with public displays of affection.

So it is refreshing to drive into the mountains, hours away from the smog and bustle of Santiago. Here, the Andes rise up to magnificent snow capped peaks and the stars shine brightly once more. We have traveled deep into Cajon del Maipo, a canyon carved deep into the high Andes. Our starting point is the small pueblo of Lo Valdes. There is a German mountaineering refugio there with more info about our ascent. Getting there proves to be no easy matter, however.

Mike and I take a long bus ride to San Gabriel, the furthest city down the valley with bus service. We are still left with almost 40km to Lo Valdes and the day is ending, reducing our chance of hitching a ride. After waiting for nearly 2 hours Mike set off to find a campsite without me. I thought that it was a poor idea but he seemed grumpy so I left him alone. About an hour later I decided to join him so I set off walking down the road. After an hour or so, I had not passed him and I assumed he walked further (and I hoped I had not already passed him). It was very dark by now, but I assumed he would hear me passing on the road. Even if he did not, no matter, we would meet in Lo Valdes later. Luckily I got picked up by a Chilean farmer and his family, unfortunatly, I never saw Mike on the road so I checked into the German refugio.
At the refugio I met three travelers from the United States who worked for Dannon Yogurt and we spent the evening trading stories. Later, the receptionist, a polish born immigrant named Nicodem, offered me some whiskey and we spent the night looking over maps and practicing Spanish and English. Nicodem had lived in Chile for the past 10 years and had not spoken any English in that time. Our conversation was a broken mix of my Spanish and his English, but we both enjoyed ourselves. The whiskey was good for settling down for the night and I hoped that the morning would bring Mike.

The next day brought bright blue skies and snow capped peaks. I had made the trip up to the refugio in the dark so I had not seen any of the mountains on the way up. They were magnificent! The canyon had turned vertical with thousand foot cliffs which you had to strain your neck to see the tops of. In the back of my mind I thought about how we were trying to climb higher than all of this, but I did not worry much and sat down to a nice breakfast with my new friends. Mike arrived from his ride around 11 in the morning and we set out towards the mine on our long climb.

The dusty mine road was steep and our packs were heavy. We had packed for 10 days and we each had between 15 and 20 lbs of food. Luckily we got a lift for 4km by one of the trucks working with the mine but it was just enough to get us on the real trail for the actual climb. For the next 7 hours we climbed 1000m into the Marmolejo valley. Our target was Cerro Marmolejo, a 6100m (20,000ft) peak on the Chilean-Argentine border. It holds the distinction of being the Southern-most 6000m peak in the world. Marmolejo is known for its grueling approach, starting below 2000m and climbing to over 6000m, more than 14 thousand feet of vertical relief. The climb is considered non-technical but ice axe and crampons are needed, adding weight to our packs. The weather is pleasant and we make camp on the top of a rock at around 3000m (almost 10k ft). It is considerably warmer in the tent and we have a good nights sleep. Breaking camp in the morning is much colder and we loiter in our sleeping bags until the sun warms us up a bit. This day we had a good amount of hiking in the snow, at times up to a foot deep. A foot of snow on a boulder field can prove to be problematic. You are unsure if you are setting your foot on solid stone or into a hole that will attempt to mangle your ankle. An injury here would be very unfortunate, although at this point we had the resources for an emergency on the mountain. The climbing seemed to go on and on. Finally we broke into a large flat plateau underneath glaciated massifs and vertical cliffs. The sunlight was blinding! I retrieved my goggles and Mike fashioned some sort of shade with his boof.

At this point we climbed 600 meters up a 45 degree mountain of talus, giving us incredible views of the surrounding mountains. Even though it was early in the day, we had already climbed about 1000 meters and we made camp on the ridge overlooking the valley.
Mike was out of water and I started to melt some using my esbit stove. This was our first sign of trouble. One fuel tablet melted snow into one half liter of slushy water. It was late in the day but still well below freezing (I would estimate in the low 20s F, a weak breeze made it very cold). I had brought 16 fuel tablets and at a 500 mL each it meant that
Mike and I had 4 more liters of water each. Mike was thirsty and drank most of his first liter right then. At 4000m (13,000ft) we needed large quantities of water to ward off altitude sickness, which can prove fatal. Mike and I discussed our options. We had a minimum of another 2 days to reach the summit and that was without the recommended acclimatization days. That would leave us with 2 liters a day during the most difficult climbing. It also meant we would have no room for mistakes and we would have to descend from 6100 meters to 3500 meters (highest liquid water) immediately. This is also dependent on my stove melting the same amount of water at near 0 degrees F (unlikely).  That night we decided to abort the attempt and head down in the morning.
The next morning arrived with a layer of ice on the tent and a beautiful view of the mountains from the campsite. We slept well that night despite the low temps (single digits F). I snapped a picture and we broke camp. Today was a long day, descending 7000 ft to the villiage of Lo Valdes.

We set off making good time down the valley even though the snow in some of the chutes was waist deep. Our decision was quickly rewarded with the onset of bad weather. The weather would have made route finding almost impossible and without the sun it was bitterly cold, even in the bottom of the valley. After 6 hours of knee-jarring descent we were back on the mine road. The bottoms of my feet were sore and blistered but we lucked out when we flagged down a small vehicle returning to Santiago after a day at the local hot springs. Mike and I filled up the car and the five of us drove the 2 hours back to the city. Our friends were two Chileans and a Mexican and it gave me another perfect situation to practice my Spanish.
We made it back to our hostel in time for a free dinner of delicious pasta and red wine. We went to bed early and we are spending the day in Santiago before we head further north for a brief moment before the trip is over. I have a flight out of Santiago May 12th which will by my 78th day on the continent. It is funny that 2 weeks seems like such a short time, but I know I still have a lot to see!

Cerro Tronador and Hospitality in Bariloche

The time has come to leave San Carlos de Bariloche. Granted, we spent much more time here than originally planned, but that is what happens when you fly by the seat of your pants. Looking back at our time here, I credit the past few incredible days to God. I just don't believe in coincidences like this. It all started when we first arrived at Refugio Frey and met our friends I spoke about in my last blog. Dylan and Brooks were both from the states and are amazing guys. Dylan moved to Argentina with his family just a few months prior and Brooks was visiting. After an awesome couple days of climbing, I mentioned that Mike and I were planning to seek out a way to climb Cerro Tronador, a 3500m glaciated peak on the border of Chile and Argentina. "Brooks and I are going there this weekend!" Dylan told us, "I have three seats open in my car."

The evening before we left for Tronador we went over to Dylan's house for dinner. We barbecued chorizo for choripan and enjoyed the hospitality of an actual family. Dylan and Cheri (Dylan's wife) have three adorable children, which is good because they are a handful. Although there was not a quite moment that night (at least before the kids went to bed), I was more than happy to play with the kids and throw them around. They live in a beautiful little house a stones throw from the lake and they have a stunning view of the sunrise each morning. Despite all the noise and chaos, there is a comforting feeling about having a home to stay in while you travel. Cheri and Dylan were beyond hospitable and I felt very peaceful sleeping that night.

That morning Regev was feeling ill so we postponed our expedition hoping he might feel better in the morning. Because it was a nice day, we made the short drive to Piedras Blancas and spent the afternoon top roping some beautiful routes above Lago Nahuel Huapi. After climbing, I made some spaghetti which was very good (if I don't say so myself) and gave Cheri a break from making dinner. The following morning Regev was feeling much better and we set off on the two hour drive to the base of the mountain.


The first 3 hours of the hike wind through a beautiful forest which was in the peak of fall color. The higher we climbed, the more brilliant the colors became. It was partly cloudy and the drizzle was on and off, creating incredible rainbows that added to the color. Almost all of Tronador was hidden in the clouds and we did not see the Refugio until we were right near it. Refugio Otto is a ramshackle little building placed between two enormous glaciers. A couple of solar panels and a wind generator supply the batteries with a trickle charge of electricity. Inside, we find a cozy main room with a stove and tables.

After a short nap, we gear up to go down to the glacier. There is still a wintry mix falling from the sky, and the wind stings any exposed skin. We go now because we are not sure if the weather will be even worse tomorrow. Once outside and on the glacier we strap on our crampons and set off with our ice axes in hand. We don't travel far before we find ourselves in a labyrinth of icy crevasses. Paths no more than a foot wide were common, with 30+ foot drops into a blue abyss on either side. The ice axe was very useful for balance and climbing. We would use the spike to probe the snow in front of us, testing for solid ice. The trip was fun and fairly uneventful, even though Brooks went swimming in some surface runoff. After about an hour of exploring, we found our way back to the solid ground and made our way back to the Refugio. That evening we warmed up near the stove and ate our meals, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

The bright blue sky and wispy clouds the next morning were a pleasant surprise. The summit of Tronador was easily visible through the large front window of the refugio. We hiked 20 minutes up an icy spur of volcanic rock to the beginning of the glacier under the summit. This section of glacier was much less dangerous and we made good time towards the summit of the mountain. Although the summit was not the goal (that is a 14 hour day with vertical ice climbing) we walked on, trying to find a good vantage point of the surrounding area. The clouds moved in and out as we climbed, revealing parts of the mountain bit by bit. Every new view that we had was incredible in its own right and the lack of wind and relative warmth made the excursion quite enjoyable. We found some crevasses to jump and some ice walls to climb. Brooks took some epic pictures and we headed down to pack and for the 3 hour hike back.

Back in Bariloche, Cheri had made some delicious, hot soup with fresh baked bread. We ate hungrily and enjoyed the rest of the time with the family. The next morning we were surprised with pancakes, homemade whipped cream and homemade blackberry jam. We said our goodbyes and Cheri dropped Mike and I off in town. Thinking back on everything now, the time we shared was perfect. Mike and I finally got to do some awesome climbing and get some more use out of those heavy ice axes and crampons, and I got too meet an amazing family and some amazing guys who I got to talk about our faith with. It was truly a blessing and I am once again reassured that leaving the planning up to God is the best way to have an amazing time.

Tomorrow, Mike and I will try to hitch across the border, back into Chile and make our way north to Santiago. I have a flight that leaves on the 12th of May and my time here is drawing to an end. We are planning on some high altitude adventures in the near future, but as always, who knows what will happen?!

San Carlos de Bariloche and Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi

After being in Southern Patagonia for so long, Bariloche was a bit overwhelming, especially for Mike. The large city and many people were more than he had seen in over a year. Easter weekend was joined by the Fiesta del Chocolate and the streets were packed. Bariloche is known as the chocolate capital of at least South America, maybe even the world, and the city is filled with chocolate shops on every block, often more than one. We found a hostel in the center of downtown and offloaded our backpacks, tired from traveling.

Easter Sunday was much different from any other I've had. I woke up late: about 9:30, and spent some time reading some scripture. It was a quiet and reflective time, and I found myself extremely thankful for my life, my family and friends, and my faith. Around 10:30, word spread in the hostel that the chocolate egg ceremony was happening now. Mike and I found ourselves in a mass of people in the town square watching as men in a cherry picker (one you would see fixing power lines in the States) tore apart a 40ft chocolate egg with mountaineering ice axes! The whole ceremony was completely ridiculous and awesome and was accompanied by a pompous military band and loud pop music. The long wait paid off with copious amounts of free chocolate. Mike and I combined brought back around 5lbs of the stuff and it was good! We ate entirely too much chocolate that night but we ended up sharing a lot when we brought it up to the national park.

Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi was Argentina's first national park and we had planned a 4 day traverse across the mountains. As we were planning we ran into Regev, an Israeli that we had met in El Chalten, and we invited him along. The first day was a short 4 hours, but a bit of a climb from 1000m to Refugio Frey at 1700m. Refugio Frey was a glorious little refuge, situated at the saddle of Laguna Toncek in the shadow of Torre Principal, a 2500m spire towering over the valley. Little known to Mike, Regev and I, Refugio Frey was a climbers paradise. The valley was filled with thousands of routes, from thousand-meter multi-pitch climbs to top rope and sport routes, Frey had it all! Mike and I immediately wished we had our climbing equipment and all of the climbers scurrying about with full trad racks and bandaged hands made us jealous. About that time, we were joined by a couple of Americans. They were at Frey for the next few days climbing and I eagerly asked them questions. One of them used to be a climbing instructor in Yosemite National Park and he was teaching his friend about placing and cleaning pro (short for protection, referring to the cams and nuts climbers place in the rock to catch a fall). He invited all of us to watch and learn and after a bit asked us if we wanted to go climbing in the morning. We eagerly accepted.

The next two days were filled with climbing the exposed faces and spires. The approach was an adventure in itself since they required some adrenaline pumping class 4 climbing with out the protection of ropes. Once in location, Mike or I would belay as our friends set the trad route. The climbing was beginner to moderate and I had not climbed routes for well over a year. This just made the rush that much better. One particular climb was a full 100ft route that began over 500ft off the valley floor. The exposure was extreme. This particular route was a 5.8 crack that required thumbs up finger jams most of the route. With your feet smeared against the vertical rock and hundreds of feet of air below you, the feeling is euphoric. The weather was perfect! Warm and no wind without a cloud in the sky. At night we drank craft beer and talked about God and other deep topics.

After a couple days of climbing our friends headed home and Mike and I headed across the pass towards Refugio Jakob. Regev had not been warm sleeping the past few nights and was running low on food so he headed back to town. It did not take long for Mike and I to stray off the main trail. We descended into a valley in the peak of Autumn color and found a small stream to follow to the trail below. Our improvised trail was beautiful. The stream was easily navigated by jumping from rock to rock and wadding where it was necessary. The smooth sloping rock created beautiful cascading waterfalls which sparkled in the bright sun. The scenery reminded me a lot of North Carolina, until I looked higher to see towering, craggy peaks. We made good time and ate lunch at the top of a waterfall overlooking the valley. Scrambling down the face, we continued until we reached a second and more severe waterfall. The stream we were following plunged more than 100 ft off a cliff and into a gorge below. High walls on either side made it impossible to down climb. What followed might possibly be the most miserable 2 hours I have ever spent in a forest. The underbrush was dominated by thickets of bamboo which seriously impeded our movement. We pulled and pushed our way up the mountain and around the cliff side, only to be turned back time and time again by vertical, impassable terrain. The bamboo went all directions. Much of it was laid down and would catch the vertical plants, bruising shins and turning the process of walking into a severely strenuous endeavor. At times I would throw the entire weight of my body forward, only to be held in an upright position and unable to move. The only salvation that the bamboo offered was a secure plant to hold on to when we traversed steep terrain. After two hours in the bamboo hell, mike and I were covered in dirt, blood and bruises but we made it back to the stream and the next few hours before dark were beautiful and scenic again. We reached the bud stop after an hour of walking a back road in the dark. Once back in Bariloche, we rewarded ourselves with some salmon ravioli and a beer.

We have decided we quite like it in Bariloche. This weekend we are doing some glacier work on Tronador, a 3500m glaciated peak a few miles from town. After that depends on the weather, but we are certainly not opposed to spending more time in this fantastic area in Northern Patagonia!

The Mighty Rio Futaleufu

In the sparsely populated pueblos of Patagonia, public transportation is
scarce, and any other traffic can be almost nonexistent. This became
painfully clear when it was time to leave Puyuhuapi. The bus to Futaleufu
would not leave for another 6 days and shorter bus excursions would be more
pricey. Still, a quick bus left town later that evening, so we decided to
try to hitch a ride while we waited.

Well, waiting on the side of a gravel road for hours while one or two cars
passed became the story of the next few days. Over the next 3 days, we
pieced together less than 250 km of short rides and buses. The hardest day
was making it less than 70 km to La Junta, much of which was spent waiting
and even walking with our heavy loads (upwards of 50 lbs each). The day was
rainy and we reached La Junta hoping to make it the last 77 km to
Futaleufu. After 3 hours of standing in the rain, we decided to call it
quits.

We found an abandoned and well sheltered car port along our route and
settled there. About that time we were joined by Max, a cyclists from
Massachusetts who we had already passed 3 times that day. He was a machine
who was surpassing 100 km a day on gravel roads and was actually keeping up
with us for the past 500 km from Coyhaique. He was on a grand tour of South
America and had already traveled from Santiago to Puerto Montt, took a
ferry to Natales and was now north bound to Colombia. He had already ridden
well over 1000 miles and was still going strong. We spent an enjoyable
night trading stories, sheltered from the rain. In the morning he shared
his oatmeal and set off as we vainly continued to look for a ride.

Finally at 2pm we boarded a bus and made a terrific chance encounter. I
happened to sit next to Troy, an English student taking a break between his
under and post grad degrees. He was traveling with two other friends, Cami
and Jeremy, who were from France. They were headed to Futaleufu for rafting
and had been given the name of an American there who ran a reputable
company. We decided to join up and raft together since it was the very end
of the season and it would be easier with a larger group. We ended up
staying two nights at a lovely hostel in Futaleufu and spent a dreary day
hiking up to the snow line and path finding. We had a terrific time with
our new friends and we couldn't have rafted without them, we soon
discovered.

The contact they had been given was Chris Spelius, an Olympic kayaker who had spent the last 20 years on the Futa (short for Futaleufu).
He was tall, well over 6 feet and he had an intense demeanor about him.
Later in the day we heard a story about a first run on the Niagara River he
did when it was running at well over 100k cubic feet per second. He was
worried about his spray skirt imploding, so he super glued it to his kayak,
having full confidence he could perform a "combat roll" if needed.

The Futa is a world class river, considered to be some of the best white
water in the world. Class 5 rapids are about as frequent as the class 3 and
4 rapids combined. It is on par with giants like the White Nile, though the
Futa is considered even more technical and less forgiving. The section we
chose to raft was 4 hours of non stop white water, ending with one of the
most difficult, commercially run class 5s on the entire Futa: Casa de la
Piedra, or House of the Rock. Even though there were only 5 of us on the
river that day, there were three guides in the water. The senior guide on
our raft, one in a cata-raft and another in a kayak. The cat and kayak were
always in front of us, acting as a safety net in case someone fell out or
the boat flipped. Rapids on this section of the Futa are very close
together and swimming them are a very bad idea.

Our raft was an 18 foot boat with a set of oars for the guide on the back
section on the raft. The cata-raft had the same oars, but in the center of
the boat. The kayak had carry loops which were used to tow swimmers back to
one of the rafts. The precautions taken quickened my pulse as we set off
for our first rapid, practicing emergency commands like "get down" and
"jump left/right". We also had to practice pulling each other in the raft.
The water was cold, but not terrible. The Futa winds through some of the
most amazing scenery in Patagonia. Colorful granite walls are clogged with
dense rain forest, hiding creeks until the very end when they plunge of the
mountains into the Futa below. A low, thin fog created an other-world like
feeling. "When the weather is like this, I always feel like I'm in Jurassic
Park", one of our guides says as we float over a section of flat water,
staring up towards the high cliffs, more than 500 feet above us.

Flat water was hard to find on the Futa. Class 3 rapids felt like ripples
after crashing through class 4s that carried on for half a kilometer. Wave
trains carried us 15 feet over the crest, only to drop us unto the trough
below, over and over. Our guide strung together commands, one after the
other. "Hard forward now! Get down! Positions! Hard forward, hard! Let's
go! JUMP RIGHT, JUMP RIGHT! Positions! Mike and I were at the front of the
boat since we had the most white water experience in the group. Water was
continually knocking us back and at times it was hard to breathe. Our guide
explained each serious rapid from an eddy upstream. Occasionally he would
ask us what we wanted to try. We always asked for the more intense line.
"we could try and go center-center and hit the hole" he said, not looking
entirely sure himself. "Let's do it".

I was the first to go when we dropped into the hole. The front left of the
boat buried itself in the water, tearing me out of my seat and surrounding
me in an angry bath of cold whitewater. After several seconds I came to the
surface and saw everyone in the water and the boat flipped. I was picked up
by the kayak and pulled onto the cata-raft. Luckily, everyone made it to an
eddy and no one was hurt. Honestly, it was exhilarating and even our guide
had a huge smile on his face. "We almost had it!" He gleefully shouted at
the other guides. After lunch we set out for the last section of the river
and La Casa de la Piedra.

Stopped in an eddy, all three of the guides went to scout the rapid. After
5 minutes of conversing they came back and described our line. "This is a
long rapid, you can't fall out in the beginning. See that rock right there?
That is the Casa. We have to go in between that and a hole but we can't hit
the rock. If we hit the rock we are all fucked". The guides were more
serious than they had been all day. The tension was intense. When the cat
and kayak went ahead of us they dropped below the horizon, out of sight,
then it was our turn. "Forward, hard!" Rocks and waves seemed to be
everywhere, the raft bounced and tossed in the churning white water as we
navigated the technical rapid. We crossed the width of the river twice,
maneuvering around sunken trees and holes that would swallow our entire
boat. And as quickly as it started, it was over. Our guide gave a whoop and
the boat broke out into cheers.

Back at the office we reviewed the gopro footage and praised our guides. It
was their last trip of the season and everyone was stoked to had had such
an awesome last day. Mike and I caught a ride with some of them to the
border and just like that, our time in Futaleufu was over. That night we
found ourselves in Esquel, a good sized Argentine city that we spent the
night in along side the road. This morning we were picked up in under 5
minutes and got a ride straight to Bariloche. We will spend a few days here, and perhaps take a multi-day trek in Parque Nacional Nauhel Huapi, Argentina's first national park! Stay tuned!

Civil Unrest

Graffiti like this is everywhere in Aysen. On every hard surface the spraypaint reads "Patagonia sin represas" and "Aysen, tu problema es mi problema", translating to Patagonia without dams and Aysen, your problem is my problem.

Merely a few days before we arrived in Coyhaique, there were major riots: shutting down the caretera and vandalizing buildings. Buildings were still boarded up and broken windows seemed to be everywhere there was not a sign or black flag showing solidarity with the protests. When we were unpacking our car and preparing to sell it, we unpleasantly discovered remnants of pepper spray only after we rubbed our nose and eyes.

The problem centers around two major issues, as far as I can tell. First, a company HidroAysen, wants to put hydroelectric dams on some of the major rivers here. This would damage the enviroment and tourism that these people depend on for their livelyhood. Compounding this issue is the lack of representation in Santiago, the nation's capital. Officials are appointed to represent the provinces that they have never lived in, and thus, do not understand the people they represent. This centralized government is having a hard time helping the people of Aysen.

You can't help rooting for the people here and it will be interesting to see how the mood changes as we head further North.

Puerto Puyuhuapi

An awesome, oceanside town we are spending some time in! Wooden boats everywhere. Enjoy!