I have a little gripe today. I know it’s utterly ridiculous that someone on a year-long sabbatical dedicated to travel would dare complain, but I can’t help it. The internet has opened up a new world to travelers in terms of sharing information and photographs. And boy do some of those photos look stunning (it must be enough to drive a professional photographer to drink). Those iconic images are, of course, the type of photos I aspire to take; the memories I want to take away with me. And here I am in this magnificent national park in this remote corner of South America and – nada. If only you’d been here last week, the locals cry, people were walking around in shorts and t-shirts and the mountains were clear and the sky was blue. Well fuck-a-doodle-do. Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic to be here, wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, but I’d still like to see where I am.
This morning Christi and I forsake the Laguna de Los Tres trail and Cerro Fitz Roy (which is still in hiding) in favor of the Laguna Torre trail. Initially, we walk through a rugged valley where a narrow waterfall cascades into the milky, glacial run-off of Rio Fitz Roy. Our first stop is at the Cerro Torre mirador, but naturally the mountain is lost beneath a fog bank. We have quickly learned, however, that predicting the weather even 15 minutes into the future is impossible, so we trudge on ever hopeful. Interestingly, a beautiful peak called Cerro Solo is clear and I photograph the hell out of it.
It’s another 2 leisurely hours to Laguna Torre from the mirador and the weather changes constantly. Fortunately the trail is largely flat, so the hiking is easy. As we approach the terminal Moraine of Glacier Grande the playful breeze that had accompanied the latter part of our hike turns into a ferocious gale. The views of the lake and its icebergs plus numerous snowy peaks rising up around the lake are fantastic and I know I shouldn’t be greedy, but Cerro Torres refuses to drop its foggy camouflage even for a moment. Christi and I eat a chilly lunch hunkered down behind a rock shelter before completing the 14-mile round trip walk back to town where more delicious pie is waiting for us at Rancho Grande. Sadly, it’s time to leave this wonderful place and we return to El Calafate on the evening bus.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart, a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale
Speak Your Mind