The Violence of a Silent Siesta, El Calafate

The wrath of a healthy economy. The silent ebbing plague on a tiny tourist town. It's a shame when such ridiculous social customs hinder the spectacle of an otherwise beautiful country. For the most part (from my experience anyway & bar a mere handful of cheerful characters), Argentinians are a bunch of pricks. They're forever slow to say 'hello,' they charge you an exuberant amount for practically every basic amenity, and each afternoon they choose to sit around in exclusive mobs, sipping on soggy maté when they could easily be making a mint in the office. Lazy buggers. I cannot express my hatred & frustration, towards such an innocent sounding siesta profoundly enough. It simply makes no sense!! Take a quick look around this otherwise sound world of ours. Spain, Italy, Portugal, Greece...all fine examples of one mighty big parallelled fuck up. At least a good dozen times over the course of this past week, have I called upon a business, ready & willing to spend a backpackers fortune on a multitude of (not normally so hard to come by) essentials. Bakeries, restaurants, gear rental shops, 'convenience' stores. They all shut!! I mean fair enough in some dusty desert dive, where it's too hot in the midday sun to realistically function; but we're in Patagonia for fuck sake!! For one, outside it's freezing...secondly, these towns can't be exactly rolling in it. They only prosper fully for a climatic four to five months or so during the peak of the tourist season. You'd expect their doors to be permanently jarred open & donning Vegas-styled fluorescent 'open for some major money-making' billboards out front. But no. Common sense never hopped aboard the boat to reach this muddled up mess. If I could only flush my toilet paper, maybe I could be slightly more accommodating. "Dulce de leche?! A ludicrous import tax?? Artesanal jewellery making misfits??" Seriously...WTF?? Why does there have to be so many Argentines here in Argentina?? Lucky for them, their crappy persona's are dwindled by their fortunate natural wonders...and this is where I now chime in, with my usual accordance. A slice of pie on a plate of dog shit. This is the Argentina I'd like to remember. I just somehow hope the vast majority can somehow redeem itself. Good luck to ya'll...

Blissful hiking in Patagonia

Now where did we leave off last?? I'm guessing back up in Bariloche. The land of uncompromising unpredictable weather, who popped us out off the mountains just at the right hour. It was time for beers. Lots of beers. That is one of the best things about smashing out weeks on end of trekking; you can practically eat and drink what ever you like on return. We'd managed to pick up an extra tag along during our three days up in the hills. The first time I met this comical German being now know as PhilipOkles, he was having a little trouble setting up his mangled tent in the horizontal snow. Out of pity I helped the lad, but warned him to keep this thing down with a bunch of rocks. A few hours later I poked my head out of my tent only to see it hanging off the edge of a cliff. What an idiot. Lucky for him it held. Just. It wasn't even his tent!! He'd borrowed a bunch of horrible gear, and came directly from the airport straight to the trail head. One thing I did thank him for was the wad ofParaguayan he'd taped to the underside of his balls as a means to sneak it through the flight. A few quick totes of that stuff would nod you right off to sleep. When we'd finished the trek, of course he didn't have a bus ticket back to town. We sung out the name of our hostel (which he assumed was just the street number) out the bus window as we departed, and I imagined we'd never see him again. We couldn't have been so lucky. Soon that quirky Alemanian face of his pops up in reception & the good times began. We bused to El Bolson (which literally translates as 'the big bag'), where we treated our weary selves to jug after jug of brewery standard cerveza, and round after round of Yarniv (the first, and only multi-player card game I know). Goldilocks & I laughed ourselves to sleep later that night, as DCTalk & PhilipOkles bitched over American politics.

Sorry mum, I've taken up gambling

The following day was practically the same. We slept, got drunk & flirted with our sexy Argentinehostess. Even though she worked side by side with her boyfriend, I think we all somehow believed/dreamt we could break those social barriers & jump her pants. Their dog was pretty cool to. He must have been about 12 years old & dead blind and/or near dead. That night, buzzed up well again after another brewery binge, I got singing some songs. The poor old thing was either trying to join in, or was squirming with disgust & distaste. I in all drunken honesty couldn't take my eyes off this Spanish chick, to who I now found myself attempting in a cloud of disillusionment to serenade. She kind of looked like one of aunties. Would it be wrong if I found her extremely attractive?? Must be a Tasmanian thing...

We were planning on scooting off the next day, however we decided to hang around. Some time during the course of that wasted night, Goldilocks & I must have come to this conclusion. DCTalkwas heading off on some hike all by himself so we assumed he might enjoy some company. He didn't exactly have a choice. It was the first time in a long while where I haven't had the slightest idea of where we were going. It was a little strange. Normally I figure out the route, the days & all the goodies in some slightly obsessive compulsion. It was a nice change; and a huge surprise. The weather was sublime!! Three days of relentless sunshine. We couldn't have asked for better. The first day we climbed up from the unrealistically clear blue waters of the Rio Azul, to the nice hut & forest setting campsites below Cerro Hielo Azul. We couldn't believe how empty the place was. These kind of areas would be packed out in the summer time back home. We chatted with Pedro, the hut warden (who makes his own beer), and sat about in the sun until it set & got ridiculously cold.

From camp below Cerro Hielo Azul

In the morning, we'd decided to climb up and pay a visit to the glacier coming down the mountain; terminating in a frozen cirque lake. The walk was spectacular. Waterfalls cascaded over the surrounding cliffs in every direction. The snow cover was more than I'd expected, and proved a fun filled obstacle as always. The sun shone brightly on top of the lake, allowing the waters to show off their glistening deep blue colour & icy secrets. After some sketchy scrambling & a final slog up the slopes, we reached the summit of Cerro Barda Negra; affording us an uninterrupted panorama of the southern Andes. We could make out Mt Tronador near Bariloche, and numerous other peaks of Chilefar stretching in the distance. I nearly fell off the mountain on the way back down, and we kind of had to slide down a snow covered glacier, but that's besides the point. No good story ever came from sittin' on your lazy ass. We lumbered back to camp, packed up our gear, told Pedro where we'd been (funnily enough he freaked!!) & powered across to our second nights camp. On the way we stumbled upon the most perfect swimming hole (if the waters hadn't been glacier melt), where it was possible to bomb four to five meters into the most crystal clear agua I'm ever likely to see. I had to give it a shot. It was a quickie. That water was FREEZING!! No sooner than I climbed out, had the sun set behind the peaks that we'd sat pondering out across earlier. It was a worthy finale to one of the best days of trekking I've ever had. We swore (if the weather held up that was) we'd be back again the following day. All hail the all mighty life giving sun!!

The Andes!! From atop Barda Negra

In the end, the weather did hold up. Choice. Off to the river we go!! What a spot!! It wasn't long before we were diving, leaping & miniaturing ourselves into the ice cold water. The setting made it. The deepest of the pools must have been at least 6 meters deep. Rapids bordered either end. We had it all to ourselves today. Life was happening. We spent about two solid hours basking in the sun between brave bounces, eventually giving into the coming cloud & retreating back to town. By the time we reached the taxi point I was craving the last of my chocolate bars proper good. DCTalk, has made me a little paranoid. Apparently I "crush chow." I guess I do eat a lot. My choco block however, was not ready to become devoured just yet...the sun had cooked him into the shapeless likeliness of milk. I had to hold it flapping under the surface of an itsy stream until it solidified. That wasn't the end of it. Once back in El Bolson, we crushed more chow courtesy of the Churipan Man. God bless him. BBQ never tasted so good.

Diving into glacier melt rios

After a little mix-up with the bus company, we got out of that place just in the nick of time. It was pissing down on the day we left; not the best when you leave the hostel in search of farewell beers & find yourself locked outside the brewery with no where else to hide. I was so fucking pissed. A little bit of Ol' dreaded EvilNick reappeared. It had been a while between re-encounters. These places can simply not run a business. Hand them a manual, and they'll smoke the fucker. I give up. We slagged into another joint defeated; then dripped dry in the bus station munging down on pre-made PhilipOkle inspired sandwiches while the owner stared on in disgust at my bare bruised feet. That bus trip was a nightmare. 25 hours stuck on a shitty bus. They only fed us twice in that time frame, and only got around to showing us one meagre movie. At one point a German girl friendlily enquired whether there would be any more food provided as she was a vegetarian...the attendant rudely & abruptly replied "NO!" That was all she got. They had us roasting in the bus while they took a fucking maté break. At this point my feet had started to swell up like my nans used to. I asked Goldilocks if they looked funny. He said they looked fat. I was scared they might drop off. I found myself truly ecstatic when we finally began pulling into the tiny town of El Chalten; Mt FitzRoy & his surrounding satellites dominated the skyline. This is what you come here for. The rest is trash-talk.

Sunlight on Mt FitzRoy

Thankfully I was inconceivably tired. The bus had wrecked me. I passed out well good, while Goldilocks suffered a dose of Israeli hospitality. The lights stayed on for most of the night. They sat up chatting loudly well past three o'clock. Then they turned the flickers back on for a morning pack-up; early early. I've acquired a lot of incredible Israeli mates over the course of my travels, but you've gotta wonder about the bulk majority. Them or the Argentines?? I can't make up my mind. The rest of that day was spent watching rom-coms & preparing for the upcoming days of trekking. There's not much top notch grub in El Chalten in all honesty. Buy your bits & pieces in Bariloche or El Calafate if you're coming down this way. I enjoyed a good bed one last time before my return to the bumpy soil. It was bliss.

Then it was back on the trail. Back where I belong. No more temperamental spats of unease aimed at the modern world; this is where I find myself comfortable & happy. Our first day however sure had its ups and downs. The weather was all over the place. Actually, it kind of resembled that of back home. Four seasons in one day. We're kind of far flung down here at 50 degrees south. Anything could happen...and that it did. Arriving at Laguna Torre early in the afternoon saw us hemmed in by close cloud. This wasn't on the postcards from memory. We wandered around the rim of the lake, and I spent a great deal of time perching my ass up on a rocky outcrop above our campsite. Huge chucks of ice had broken off the glacier in the distance & had made their way towards the foreground shore. One time a slice broke off & the iceberg span and splattered about in front of us. It was pretty cool, but I was teeming to spot that phat chunk of rock; the one I came here to see - Cerro Torre; a sheer peak shrouded in mountaineering fame. For now I'd have to wait. At the camp we met an Austriancouple who were coming off a six day epic around the back of the range. The winds had been so strong blowing across the ice fields that their tent had been practically destroyed. This guy had visited the area three times over the course of eight years, and not once had he sighted the elusive mountain. Maybe I'd have to wait longer than I'd hoped.

Glacier of Laguna Torre

In the morning we chanced ourselves one last time on the rim of the lake to no avail. I was sure I'd never get my glimpse. After a while we took off in the direction of FitzRoy; our plan was to now camp at Pointcenot for two more nights since we'd heard the wankers at the edge of the park charge some ridiculous amount for camping AND entry. How they justify it, I have no idea. As we rounded Laguna Madre the skies opened up, affording us some magnificent views. First we spotted the impressive tower of Mt Pointcenot itself. We sat in one spot for a while enjoying the vistas & taking ridiculous Mortal Kombat posed photos. Then the mighty Mt FitzRoy came out to play. What a hefty chunk of rock that turned out to be. I've seen a lot of impressive mountains in my day, but this hands down stole the crown. The thing was bloody huge!! The peaks of the Huayhuash only really rose out from the high plateau; here FitzRoy loomed at least 2000 meters directly overhead. What a sight. All of a sudden the tiresome trip was well worth it. That afternoon after setting up camp, we payed a visit to the obligatory Laguna de los Tres, a highlight to any trip into the park. This single spot was sensational. The bright blue lake was covered in a thin and sometimes choppy layer of ice. The now close peaks towered above us. I was smitten. We spotted a couple of tiny climbers heading up the snow slopes. I once climbed with a guy who had got within 30 meters of the summit before the weather blew in and forced him down. Hopefully these guys would have better luck. I didn't want to leave this place. Maybe I'd be back. I still had plenty of time left on this continent, so to speak. We sat that night at camp, cooking our regular dose of pasta, in awe of the sight before us. In Patagonia after all.

Laguna de los tres & Mt FitzRoy

We slept in a great deal the following morning. It was about twelve in the afternoon by the time we got going. We'd decided to pay a short visit to the Glacier Piedras Blancas. There are so many cool side trips in the park that you could spend weeks covering all the trails. When we got there I decided to scramble up the unstable side slopes and wander along the ridge. Again FitzRoy rose up in front of us, dominating the view. It made all the other mountains around it look like lesser beings. It wasn't their fault. I should have retraced my steps on the return. Of course however I didn't. Instead I slid down the scree towards the lake, causing a scene in an otherwise tranquil setting.

Laguna Piedra Blancas

That night was piercingly cold. I had trouble sleeping. Not due to the cold I'm sure; I just couldn't nod off. I woke that following morning to the sound of scattered feet. I was a little confused. What was going on?? All of a sudden my tent started shaking. Was the world ending a little early?? "Nick...Nick," it was Goldilocks waking me up. Thank fuck he did. The mother of all mornings!! The skies were as clear as freshly glazed windows. FitzRoy, once again was plushing his feathers. The peaks were now tinted by shades of ochre orange, an almost pinkish illusion. The cameras were out in force despite the inclining cold, and we stood there motionless to watch the show unfold before us. Once it was all over, we knew what now we had to do. It took me a quick-fire fifteen minutes to pack up all my shit. I was off once again. Back in the direction of Laguna Torre for once last glimpsing chance. It didn't take long at all; I must have been flying with excitment. Coming down the banks from the hill top forest, there she was. Piercing the perfect sky. I relaxed a little in my pursuit, and kicked myself with satisfaction. Patagonia kept on impressing. Each & every time. How much better could it get?? Goldilocks soon arrived, and not too long after duck-stepped DCTalk. There we were, los tres amigoes, sipping cheap black coffee below one of the worlds undisputed spectacles. Our luck had struck once again. I'll never forget that view across the lake to Cerro Torre. It was once of those special particulars of my short lived life.

Cerro Torre

Once back in town, it was back to bindging. O' how sweet good times can taste. Two rounds of raspberry waffles con creama were soon followed with numerous beers, vasos of vino & one giant burger. I'm not too sure whether this is a healthy way of being. Who cares anyhow. It's not too long until the grand finale. Fingers crossed our luck continues. I now reside here in El Calafate, a shitty boring town on the edge of the barren Patagonian plains. The only reason you'd be here is to visit the unbelievable Perito Moreno Glacier. Did I mention things just keep getting better?? I mean Machu Picchu was cool and all, Chichen Itza proved its point; but nothing can prepare you for THIS!! Raw nature at its finest. My friend & I compared it in likeliness to cricket. We stood there for hours on end, blankly gazing in anticipation upon a usually uneventful playing field of ice. Every now and then some significant event would unfold, sparking an uncontrollable jubilation. At least four or five times, huge 60 meter high slabs of the glacier front tumbled & crashed into the milky waters of the lake. It was like a fourteen story building toppling over in slow motion. Small sections snapped off from high above & plummeted like cannon balls. A fine end to this lengthy stint. Now it's time to get the fuck out of Argentina & make for that forthcoming prize. Torres del Paine awaits just across the border. One final Patagonian show down. Let the clear skies continue and allow the asado to settle.

The unbelievable Perito Moreno Glacier!!

Merry Xmas to ya'll, and have a wild & happy New Years!!
See everyone after the upcoming apocalypse. 
Much lovin' from this stray cat xxx
The Raddest Dawg.

P.S: If you get the time, you may also enjoy browsing through some of my friends travel blogs also...
Here is my pick of the bunch - 

http://www.worldoutsidethecube.com/

http://betterbringbells.wordpress.com/

http://blog.travelpod.com/travel-blog/touristtom/1/tpod.html