03.13.08 - To Ushuaia

A Busy Bus Day

It is rare to look forward to a dozen or more hours trapped within the confines of a bus, but today was definitely the exception. The Dutchies and I would be leaving the bustling Patagonia metropolis of Punta Arenas (population 125,000) for the southern most city in the world, Ushuaia (population 61,000). Unfortunately, Birgit headed north, so or group was now down to only three. I joked with a couple of German girls in the Punta Arenas hostel, that we were running low on Germans so may have to adopt them into the group.

South American buses are rolling examples of "false advertising". To look at the door markings, one would expect nothing but pure luxury service. To be optimistic, at least there was a bathroom onboard, as everything else turned out to be a visual misnomer.



A very nice surprise to the day turned out to be that many of the roads marked as “dirt” on the map, turned out to be paved.



We even had a ferry crossing into Tierra del Fuego.





Once on the other side of the channel the roads turned to the promised dirt surface, so it was good to have the metal grate, a third of the way up the cracked windscreen.



Anticipating the typical highly bureaucratic and drawn out Chilean/Argentine border crossing, we were all surprised and refreshed at the speedy, simplistic, and efficient ten minute stop before entering Argentina.



I thought of my Uncle Don at a gas stop a few hours further down the road in Tolhuin.



One of my favored childhood memories was riding in the back "rumple seat" of one of his Ford Model “A” cars, while riding around the back roads of Southaven, Michigan.



A few more hours further down the road brought us to the southern most city on the planet, the tourist and fishing city of Ushuaia, Argentina.

The harbor is historic, with old grounded vessels venerated near the docks.



Viewing the massive trans-Antarctic Ocean ships at the port made me cross my mental fingers. I had come to Ushuaia specifically at this time to try catching a “last minute” fare and excursion to Antarctica. With this accomplished, I will have set foot on all seven continents in less than two years. (Ok, maybe I actually crossed more than proverbial fingers… )



Sunset brought typically mixed and colorful skies. This town was a total mystery, so it was not hard to be excited for the next few days.



Walking back to the hostel and entering the kitchen/dining area, I was surprised to hear voices calling to me. It was Stephie and Andrea, the two German girls from Punta Arenas. So, the Dutchies and I had little choice but to serendipitously adopt them into the clan.

03.12.08 - Punta Arenas

"Chilly Willy" Patagonia Style

The entire object of this day’s travel from Puerto Natales to Punta Arenas was to see the Magallanes penguins. They famously congregate on Magallanes Island to breed by the tens of thousands. Unfortunately, today the wind and weather were simply too rough to make the boat trip to the island, so the other option was to head to Seno Otway Pingunera.

An hour-long mini-bus ride brought us to a board walked penguin habitat.



The penguins have created their own highway network through the grasslands, but after fifteen minutes of walking we had yet to catch a glimpse of a single creature.



The secret lay a little further along the boardwalk and just beyond the “beach blind”.



Hundreds of penguins were making their way onto the beach, congregating together as a brace against the very cold wind and sea spray.



Curiously, some would pop back into the surf, only to squawk a complaint and rejoin the group on the rocky beach.



Even though there were relatively few penguins to observe, these little guys still manage to captivate.



Soon, several of the larger birds started their nightly trek to the deeper grasslands.



They navigate the protective wispy clumps of grass, …



…with only an exposed head popping up every now and then.



A little further along the trail and the grasses thin, a bit, to form nesting areas.



Of course the poor penguins don’t stand an observatory chance at privacy, because if you can’t see them readily from the boardwalk, there are several elevated decks available.



Heading back towards the entrance of the park, the weather was definitely turning darker and colder, with the looming sun set.



Patagonia can be plenty cold enough without gale force winds, blowing flags perfectly horizontal to the ground.



We came to see one bird and ended up finishing the day with another. I can’t remember the name of this particular creature, which looks a bit like a miniature ostrich. It is not an emu, but still pointed to the continental drift theory and how at one point in ancient history there was a single super continent. Without this, it would be awfully coincidental for these similar birds to simultaneously develop on multiple continents.

03.11.08 - Torres del Paine

Day 5 – Torres and Return to Puerto Natales

5:00am insured darkness, as Birgit, Linda, Lipika and I headed out into the flurries of snow dancing in from of our headlamps. The trail was relatively well marked, but in the moonless night everything was just a little less sure.

Marijn and Lotte had hiked the extra hour up the valley, last evening, to spend the night at Campamento Torres. Our trick was to meet them at 6:00am, in the darkness. Arriving at the campsite, the scale was unexpected. Hundreds of campers crowded the space. Linda, Lipika, and Birgit started up the bolder strewn ascent to the viewing site, while I stumbled between the tents looking for Marijn and Lotte. After fifteen minutes of interrupting far too many campers preparing for the climb themselves and with no sight of the Dutchies, I headed to the trail head.

Trying to catch the Germans, I put on a real pace and somewhere in the darkness and swarms of people missed them completely. Arriving almost alone at the top, with only three other strangers ahead of me, reinforced this solitary condition. So I climbed a little further, to a photo location and waited in the drizzle for the sun to rise.

The cloud deck showed little signs of either moving or evaporating by 7:15am. At this rate the early start and effort would be rewarded with little more than a dull almost monochromatic scene.



As if on quay, at the stroke of 7:30am, the sun scrambled over the opposing mountain ridge and began to light the towers.



The clouds and fog started to part, revealing a few of the jagged edges, which make this part of Patagonia distinguished.



Then by 7:40am the cast light dissipated and the clouds returned. If you hadn’t been in position for that exact fifteen-minute window, then the climbing effort would have been spent with little reward. As it was, actual Torres / towers, were hardly visible, but the thrill of watching the alpine environmental change was well worth the early morning exertion.



I have debated for over a year, as to whether to ever broach this topic but the Torres del Paine experience was a capstone experience in Israeli youth exposure. Most “gap year” travelers experience some experience with the roving demolition team of Israeli youth. Basically, the premise is you take a young person (18 years old), enlist him or her in the military for about three years, then release them upon the world. The net result is a public relations disaster. The marauding packs take over almost every situation with a selfishly insulated egotism usually reserved for anti-American stereotypes. In Torres del Paine, this particular group, laid waste to every shared kitchen and shelter: clogging drains with food, spraying uneaten pasta all over the ground, throwing garbage without reserve everywhere (in a pack-in carry-out environment), and crushing their cigarettes on the granite boulders of the Torres vista, while leaving butts everywhere in a non-decomposing visual legacy.

These continual self-centered socially ignorant behaviors led me to broach the topic, not only with our immediate group, but with a further multi-national contingent. The consensus was this is definitely not a Semitic issue but an Israeli foreign national dilemma.

One traveler commented, “That so many people, traveling the world across continents, are having similar interactions, with so many multiple Israeli groups, that all these instances can’t be wrong.”  Meaning, if it walks like a duck, quacks like duck, smells like a duck, then on a trend line basis odds are it is a duck.

An Aussie couple chimed in that, “This is definitely changing my political position about the Middle East. You can only imagine how they must interact regionally.”

While an Irish traveler proclaimed, “Nah, this has only reinforced the rationale of my previous political stance.”

The Israeli government is fortunate that US citizens are amongst the least traveled in the world, else our billions of dollars in aid might meet a diminishing point or at least start to have clearer expectations attached. Again, this topic took almost two years to broach and can be easily misinterpreted for what it is not, an anti-jewish position. To be painfully clear, again, the collective experience was a consistent intrusion of obnoxious Israeli youth, who demonstrated no active faith, so religion has nothing to do with the perception outcome.

Whew, on to something less controversial… given the far southern hemisphere geographic positioning of Patagonia, the first twinges of Fall started to appear along the trail.



Our group has been extremely lucky, with mostly sunny skies for four days, so no one could feel particularly surprised by the constant mist, which blurred and clouded the refugio return.



All in all, hiking the “W” at Torres del Paine challenged the strength of our group but not the bond. We were happy to have completed the trek, but a little saddened because Linda and Lipika would not be returning with us to Puerto Natales, opting to head north to El Calafate.



The evening in Puerto Natales was equally magical as our first exposure. The southern hemisphere clouds somehow appear closer and more impactful, in the chilled breezes.



I know, I know, not another food shot, but this experience was truly extraordinary. Birgit and I dined at an East African/Patagonian fusion restaurant. The soy sesame chicken drumsticks, with barbeque mashed potatoes was a flavor explosion not experienced thus far in South America. Truly awesome! Kudos to the Kenyan born, Zambian influenced chef. Asante sana!!!

03.10.08 - Torres del Paine

Day 4 – To Refugio Chileno

The morning was still and cool, providing a perfect beginning to our trek along the length of Lago Nordenskjold.



It was such a relief to have our make-shift family back together again. The dynamic is perfect and shifting, to float between the antics of the Dutchies and the reserve of the German contingent. We honestly enjoy each other.



Looking up the slopes of Monte Almirante Nieto, a perfect moraine semi-circle set the the clear forward boundary of an extinct glacier. This scene reminded me of the massive glacier that covered about half of North America and the ribbon of gravel left in a continuous pile stretching from New Bedford, Massachusetts to Dayton, Ohio and beyond.



A small lake was supposed to be our way mark, on the right-hand side of the trail, so we were all surprised to see it appear on the left. The morning was long past and the team needed food and a rest before the final push up Valle Ascencio.



Lipika and Linda took advantage of the chilled water to sooth sore toes and footpads.



Marijn, the constant humorist clowned at “wolfing down” crackers and jam, poured from a water bottle. Days prior he had decided to empty all his packets of jam into a single water bottle for centralized storage and hopeful ease of use. One out of two isn’t all that bad. The three of us shared a lunch of salami, soda crackers, jam, and chocolate. Perfect.



While relaxing and waiting for our 3:00pm trek reignition, wild horses came down for a drink.



Marijn attempted to sneak up on a drinking horse, by a feeder stream, but somehow missed the concept that an over two-meter man, complete with pack, may find it a little difficult to catch a candid shot of a horse at less than three meters away. The horse kept a good eye on the G-Star Raw wearing stranger.



The remaining 5 kilometers to Refugio Chileno tempted the favorable weather pattern. Gradually, the sun resigned to cloud cover, followed by building winds and mist. But, the good news remained that the refugio was clearly in view.



From the porch of Refugio Chileno the Torres (towers) were partially visible well off in the distance. With a little luck, we would be viewing the sunrise on the Torres from over the ridge, in the early morning.



Evening brought rain and dropping temperatures, but the refugio kitchen staff countered with definitive “comfort food” for dinner in the form of enchiladas. Each of us prepared for the worst, a blind morning hike to completely obfuscated views, while hoping for a weather-clearing miracle.

03.09.08 - Torres del Paine

Day 3 – Regresamos a Valle Frances

Seven forty-five this morning was a magic moment. The sun had risen but had not bathed the mountain with amber warmth, until just that very moment.



The hoards of refugio breakfast diners flooded out into the cool air to photograph or just absorb the delicate scene. In a matter of moments, the literal moment had passed and the field of view cooled to a typical zebra striped gray.  (See last picture of the day for contrast.)



This morning, I stayed behind with the packs and let Birgit, Linda, and Lipika head out about 8:30am. There was no room left in the refugio for this night, so we would be camping in tents, which were not yet vacated. About ten in the morning, I was finally able to transfer the gear and head out on the trail.

The solo pacing provided a change of focus. I stopped to enjoy the lichen patterns on granite stones. These designs are strong when the granite is actually adhered to and a shadow remains after lichen has withered away.



The day’s trek would be a retracing of the last 5.5 kilometers, of the prior evening, to opening of the French Valley, combined with another 5.5 kilometers of climbing to the viewing point above Camp Britanico. Now simply multiply the kilometers by 2 and that is the return distance total for the day or 22 kilometers.

Someone must have had fun on the beach with the bi-tonal stones. It is amazing that both white granite pebbles and the darker gray stones of the striped mountains seem to line the shore of Lago Nordenskjold in near perfect proportion to the volume found in the standing mountains.



This morning I was pacing at a rapid rate, given the freedom of no expedition pack weighing me down. Pushing through the kilometers, the sound of thunder rung through the opening Valle Frances.



In reality it was not thunder at all but glacial avalanches breaking free to head downward. Just as my first views of the Graciar Frances came into focus a snow avalanche slipped off the harder frozen base. If you look at the center of the picture, below, a stream of snow echoed the bigger slide. In reality, it is extremely difficult to document the bulk of the slide because it has already gone by the time the thunder sound-print reaches the viewer.



The reward for 11 kilometers of trekking, combined with 750 meters of elevation gain, is a backside view of one of the Torres or Towers.



With a veritable “point and shoot” camera it is very difficult capture all the textures and shades of this alpine environment. There are deep greens, combined with bone-dry grey tree snags, golden grasses, baby blue sky, white snow, and granite spires. It is a frigid day’s climb to the end of the French Valley but highly recommended.



A huge bonus of the day’s trek was catching up with the Dutchies, who armed with a tent and food avoided the 11 kilometers of backtracking by camping at the opening of the Valle Frances. We have spent basically the last week together and not seeing them for over twenty-four hours left a real void. Marijn and Lotte are an incredible couple. They are both individually honest and exceptional, while paring to make a overtly welcoming couple. I loved their sense of humor and wit, that somehow easily traversed the language gap. Marijn, with his flaming “doo-rag”, from mountain biking the "World’s Most Dangerous Road" in Bolivia, could hardly be an urban tough, but he had fun in the attempted mime.



It is so difficult to pick which of the hundreds of pictures to share, so I’ll try to keep with distinctly varying shots. Even though the scene is completely different, the volume of this impression reminded of Yosemite.