Hi all,
I'm posting this entry pretty much to make sure that my blog doesn't get removed due to inactivity. I'm not sure if that even happens, but I'm not taking any chances.
Hope all is well,
Andrius.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Fishing and Glacier Perito Moreno
Hello Friends!
Day 10 (Day 1 Puerto Natales)
Day 10 (Day 1 Puerto Natales)
I'm sitting at a table with two older Israelis who are eating something that smells delicious. I would chat with them, but they are speaking Hebrew and have given no indication that they know English. So far the highlights of my day have been talking to Kelsey (it's been a while) and the milk and cookies I'm eating right now. Mmmm. I'm still trying to decide what to do with myself and the 4 days I have to kill. I'd like to fish but it's turning out to be bothersome because I don't have waders and nobody will rent me any. I'm also considering heading up to El Calafate in Argentina for a day or two, but that seems a waste because I went to all the trouble of bringing the fishing gear down here. Augh! What I really want is to fish, but I'd also like to get to Argentina one last time. I'll try and figure it out by tonight. I'm going to town to figure out my situation, and I'll finish this entry tonight. Lord only knows where I'll be!
Well, here I am. I guess I should explain where "here" is because "here" is actually more like "nowhere". I'm alone, in my tent, by a river. The river, called Rio Hollemburg, runs 3.5 km between Lake Balmaceda and the ocean and is located about 30 km outside of Puerto Natales. I'm camping about 1.5 km from the road, or halfway up the river. I figure it's pretty much just me and a bunch of cows. Truth be told I'm a little scared. I'm absolutely and totally alone. The only people who know where I am are some guy in a flyshop and the taxi driver who brought me here. In addition, being alone in the woods is a bit spooky. It was getting dark when I was cooking so I brought my pot and cup inside the tent with me. For some reason the tent provides a little bubble of comfort--something familiar, I guess. I still have the problem of things that go "bump" in the night, and I wish I haad my ipod to forget about the wind and other noises from outside. Ugh...I'm stuffed. I made a pretty good stew/soup, but it's super gooey and salty and I made enough for two. Unfortunately I'm alone so I feel ready to explode. I usually finish everything I make, but if I take one more bite I'll retch. I'll deal with the leftovers in the morning when the world feels a bit more friendly.
So. This evening really was beautiful. This river is a flyfishermans dream--3.5 km of deserted water with coho salmon, trout, and numerous other sportfish including sea-run trout. It would also be a good bird sanctuary. Even my novice eye has spotted about 30 different species just this evening, and there are thousands of them! If I had a shotgun I'd be eating rabbit and goose stew, and I would be considerably less worried about intruders. Hell, if I had a long stick I could probably swat one out of the air. To fish I walked up to the lake. The terrain levels out considerably there, and it's possible to see the mountains across the ocean and the lake stretching away in the opposite direction. Although I didn't catch any fish (not even a bite!), the sunset over the mountains was picturesque. Add the wildlife and the stream and it was a beautiful moment indeed. Walking back to the campsite, on the other hand, was rough. I was tired, hungry, frustrated from a lack of fish, a little frightened, and quite lonely. I would really love to have someone to share this experience with--neither camping nor fishing is as much fun alone, really. I guess my attitude might change if I catch something tomorrow, but it's just not the same alone.
Sorry this entry is so long, but I really have nothing else to do and this is keeping my mind off the possiblilty of a 2 ton heifer stumbling over my tent in the night and squishing my intestines out my belly button. Anyway, I really am looking forward to getting home. I think knowing that soon I'll be with the people I know and love is making this much more difficult. I'm ready to go back to my old stomping grounds and just be comfortable for a while. That said, I feel like I've matured a lot here in Chile. I can tell from the way I think, talk, and interact with people that being here has changed me, hopefully for the better. I guess change is probably an inevitable consequence of living abroad, but it's strange all the same. Gnight!
Day 11 ( Day 2 fishing)
Jumpin' junipers what a day! Where to start? Of course I didn't rise and shine with my alarm at 6 am and it was more like 9:30 when I rolled out of my sleeping bag. I ate some cold but delicious granola and went to fish. It was a bust. I fished at least 2 hours and trided every single bloody fly, streamer and nymph in my box. I fished surface and I fished bottom, with every plausible combination. After trying everything, I still had nothing. Well, almost nothing--I did catch one 8 incher. I was mad. I came back to camp and decided that if I wasn't going to catch and fish, at least I would eat well. To that end I sauteed garlic with spices and browned some ham in them. I mixed all that with mashed potatoes and it was delicious.
After lunch I was so deperate that I put a piece of ham on a hook, and bobber fished for 20 minutes. Even bait didn't work in this godforsaken stream! Somewhere I found new resolve and tied on the old 2 nymph rig. This I fished diligently for about 40 minutes or so then decided to try a brown wooly bugger. I also put on a 3x tippet instead of 4x (stronger line, for you non-fisherpeople) because it matched my leader size more closely ( I was hitting the taper). Right away I caught a nice 15 inch brown. I put it back and made another cast in the same hole. Whaddya know, I got another fish! Right away it felt really heavy, like I couldn't move it at all. Usually if you pull hard the fish will move, but this felt more like a snag than a fish. For a few seconds I thought it actually was a snag, but right as the thought entered my mind the fish made it's first run. Based on the heavy pull and deep diving, I had thought it might be a salmon, but when it ran it flashed it's colors and I knew it was a brown trout, and a big hog brown at that. Minutes later it jumped clear out of the water and I almost had a "hernism" when I saw it in it's entirety. Forty minutes later after 8 attempted nettings I fell panting on the bank about 100 yards downstream with a 8-10 pound brown trout in my net. I was ecstatic! It had taken almost 45 minutes all told, but my 5/6 lightweight rod had finally exhausted the big fish and I had netted it. I snapped several photos with the self timer and returned the fish to the water.
I took a break after that because my hand and arm were cramping something fierce and I was too adrenaline buzzed to be of any use. The feeling of accomplishment was incredible. I had been persistent, found a way that worked on my own, caught, netted, and taken photos of a very, very, big fish. Truth be told, though, I had a lot of help. First and foremost are mom and dad who went to great lenghts to send me flies. Also I have to thank my father for teaching me to fish and Lucas (a friend and expert flyfisherman) for furthering my knowledge.
I fished all evening and caught numerous other big fish, all of which were a blast and fought like mad. All in all it was a fulfulling day.
Day 12 (Day 3 fishing)
Today I fished dawn to dusk. I fell in the stream once and filled my waders with water, caught a bunch of fish, and caught a ride home with two other fishermen--the second people I've seen here. It was good they came because the taxi driver didn't come back and I would have been hard pressed to find a ride to town. Also I was out of food.
Day 13 (Sun 10 dec 2006)
Today started at 8:30 am when I caught a bus to El Calafate, Argentina. It's a six hour bus trip and about half is dirt road--definetly not what I was expecting. There is also nothing to see but barren shrubland with the occasional sheep. The ride was made more interesting by talking with Julia, a French girl my age sitting next to me. We talked in Spanish, thank God. It've spoken way too much English lately. She's here for a year and also left a boyfriend at home. He's from somewhere in the Netherlands because she was trying to learn some crazy language so she could talk with his family (on top of the five she already knows). In Chile she works in Pucon regulating the different agencies that guide trips up the volcano we climbed, Villarica. Apparently there are lots of avalanches and accidents that get hushed up so as not to stifle tourism. Interesting.
The bus pulled into El Calafate at about 1:30 and my first impression was "hellhole". There was a dust storm and the wind was blowing hard enough that it was rocking parked vans so that two wheels almost came off the ground. I caught a shuttle to the hostal ($3/night) booked a tour of the glacier (leaves in 30 minutes) got a bus home (leaves at 8 tomorrow) ran to 3 ATM's to get money to pay for the tour, got food and barely arrived back in time for the tour. Turns out Julie and two other American friends I met on the bus were also taking the tour, so I had company.
The glacier was spectacular. It's called Perito Moreno because Moreno is the last name of some explorer and Perito is a title of honor bestowed upon excellent mountaineers. We first took a boat ride to see the southern face of the glacier. It was really impressive from the water because the glacier towers some 70 meters above the lake. A couple chunks calved off the glacier while we watched. It looked as though they were falling in slow motion, but in reality the whole thing is many times bigger than it appears. (The boat couldn't go any closer than 300 meters because if a large enough piece falls off it could capsize.) After about 3 hours of glacier watching I returned to Calafate and fixed dinner, then retired to my sleeping bag for the night.
Day 14 (Dec 11, 2006)
Well my Patagonian adventure is winding down--I fly back to Santiago tomorrow at 5:00 pm. Today looks to be a lot of traveling as well, because I'm hoping to reach Punta Arenas tonight and spend one more evening at the Hostal Independencia with Eduardo. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear about my travels.
Although I wouldn't trade this trip for the world, I was really excited to board the bus headed to Puerto Natales this morning. For the first time I'm heading home, and in 4 short days I'll be back in the good old US of A. It will be very sad to leave Chile behind and even more difficult to leave all the good friends I've made along the way. It's been a wonderful experience and I've made memories that will last a lifetime. Thank you all for allowing me to share them through this blog and I hope you all learned something along the way; I know I did. See you soon!
Chao, y por la ultima vez, ya me voy. (Bye, and for the last time, I'm out.)
Andrius
Well, here I am. I guess I should explain where "here" is because "here" is actually more like "nowhere". I'm alone, in my tent, by a river. The river, called Rio Hollemburg, runs 3.5 km between Lake Balmaceda and the ocean and is located about 30 km outside of Puerto Natales. I'm camping about 1.5 km from the road, or halfway up the river. I figure it's pretty much just me and a bunch of cows. Truth be told I'm a little scared. I'm absolutely and totally alone. The only people who know where I am are some guy in a flyshop and the taxi driver who brought me here. In addition, being alone in the woods is a bit spooky. It was getting dark when I was cooking so I brought my pot and cup inside the tent with me. For some reason the tent provides a little bubble of comfort--something familiar, I guess. I still have the problem of things that go "bump" in the night, and I wish I haad my ipod to forget about the wind and other noises from outside. Ugh...I'm stuffed. I made a pretty good stew/soup, but it's super gooey and salty and I made enough for two. Unfortunately I'm alone so I feel ready to explode. I usually finish everything I make, but if I take one more bite I'll retch. I'll deal with the leftovers in the morning when the world feels a bit more friendly.
So. This evening really was beautiful. This river is a flyfishermans dream--3.5 km of deserted water with coho salmon, trout, and numerous other sportfish including sea-run trout. It would also be a good bird sanctuary. Even my novice eye has spotted about 30 different species just this evening, and there are thousands of them! If I had a shotgun I'd be eating rabbit and goose stew, and I would be considerably less worried about intruders. Hell, if I had a long stick I could probably swat one out of the air. To fish I walked up to the lake. The terrain levels out considerably there, and it's possible to see the mountains across the ocean and the lake stretching away in the opposite direction. Although I didn't catch any fish (not even a bite!), the sunset over the mountains was picturesque. Add the wildlife and the stream and it was a beautiful moment indeed. Walking back to the campsite, on the other hand, was rough. I was tired, hungry, frustrated from a lack of fish, a little frightened, and quite lonely. I would really love to have someone to share this experience with--neither camping nor fishing is as much fun alone, really. I guess my attitude might change if I catch something tomorrow, but it's just not the same alone.
Sorry this entry is so long, but I really have nothing else to do and this is keeping my mind off the possiblilty of a 2 ton heifer stumbling over my tent in the night and squishing my intestines out my belly button. Anyway, I really am looking forward to getting home. I think knowing that soon I'll be with the people I know and love is making this much more difficult. I'm ready to go back to my old stomping grounds and just be comfortable for a while. That said, I feel like I've matured a lot here in Chile. I can tell from the way I think, talk, and interact with people that being here has changed me, hopefully for the better. I guess change is probably an inevitable consequence of living abroad, but it's strange all the same. Gnight!
Day 11 ( Day 2 fishing)
Jumpin' junipers what a day! Where to start? Of course I didn't rise and shine with my alarm at 6 am and it was more like 9:30 when I rolled out of my sleeping bag. I ate some cold but delicious granola and went to fish. It was a bust. I fished at least 2 hours and trided every single bloody fly, streamer and nymph in my box. I fished surface and I fished bottom, with every plausible combination. After trying everything, I still had nothing. Well, almost nothing--I did catch one 8 incher. I was mad. I came back to camp and decided that if I wasn't going to catch and fish, at least I would eat well. To that end I sauteed garlic with spices and browned some ham in them. I mixed all that with mashed potatoes and it was delicious.
After lunch I was so deperate that I put a piece of ham on a hook, and bobber fished for 20 minutes. Even bait didn't work in this godforsaken stream! Somewhere I found new resolve and tied on the old 2 nymph rig. This I fished diligently for about 40 minutes or so then decided to try a brown wooly bugger. I also put on a 3x tippet instead of 4x (stronger line, for you non-fisherpeople) because it matched my leader size more closely ( I was hitting the taper). Right away I caught a nice 15 inch brown. I put it back and made another cast in the same hole. Whaddya know, I got another fish! Right away it felt really heavy, like I couldn't move it at all. Usually if you pull hard the fish will move, but this felt more like a snag than a fish. For a few seconds I thought it actually was a snag, but right as the thought entered my mind the fish made it's first run. Based on the heavy pull and deep diving, I had thought it might be a salmon, but when it ran it flashed it's colors and I knew it was a brown trout, and a big hog brown at that. Minutes later it jumped clear out of the water and I almost had a "hernism" when I saw it in it's entirety. Forty minutes later after 8 attempted nettings I fell panting on the bank about 100 yards downstream with a 8-10 pound brown trout in my net. I was ecstatic! It had taken almost 45 minutes all told, but my 5/6 lightweight rod had finally exhausted the big fish and I had netted it. I snapped several photos with the self timer and returned the fish to the water.
I took a break after that because my hand and arm were cramping something fierce and I was too adrenaline buzzed to be of any use. The feeling of accomplishment was incredible. I had been persistent, found a way that worked on my own, caught, netted, and taken photos of a very, very, big fish. Truth be told, though, I had a lot of help. First and foremost are mom and dad who went to great lenghts to send me flies. Also I have to thank my father for teaching me to fish and Lucas (a friend and expert flyfisherman) for furthering my knowledge.
I fished all evening and caught numerous other big fish, all of which were a blast and fought like mad. All in all it was a fulfulling day.
Day 12 (Day 3 fishing)
Today I fished dawn to dusk. I fell in the stream once and filled my waders with water, caught a bunch of fish, and caught a ride home with two other fishermen--the second people I've seen here. It was good they came because the taxi driver didn't come back and I would have been hard pressed to find a ride to town. Also I was out of food.
Day 13 (Sun 10 dec 2006)
Today started at 8:30 am when I caught a bus to El Calafate, Argentina. It's a six hour bus trip and about half is dirt road--definetly not what I was expecting. There is also nothing to see but barren shrubland with the occasional sheep. The ride was made more interesting by talking with Julia, a French girl my age sitting next to me. We talked in Spanish, thank God. It've spoken way too much English lately. She's here for a year and also left a boyfriend at home. He's from somewhere in the Netherlands because she was trying to learn some crazy language so she could talk with his family (on top of the five she already knows). In Chile she works in Pucon regulating the different agencies that guide trips up the volcano we climbed, Villarica. Apparently there are lots of avalanches and accidents that get hushed up so as not to stifle tourism. Interesting.
The bus pulled into El Calafate at about 1:30 and my first impression was "hellhole". There was a dust storm and the wind was blowing hard enough that it was rocking parked vans so that two wheels almost came off the ground. I caught a shuttle to the hostal ($3/night) booked a tour of the glacier (leaves in 30 minutes) got a bus home (leaves at 8 tomorrow) ran to 3 ATM's to get money to pay for the tour, got food and barely arrived back in time for the tour. Turns out Julie and two other American friends I met on the bus were also taking the tour, so I had company.
The glacier was spectacular. It's called Perito Moreno because Moreno is the last name of some explorer and Perito is a title of honor bestowed upon excellent mountaineers. We first took a boat ride to see the southern face of the glacier. It was really impressive from the water because the glacier towers some 70 meters above the lake. A couple chunks calved off the glacier while we watched. It looked as though they were falling in slow motion, but in reality the whole thing is many times bigger than it appears. (The boat couldn't go any closer than 300 meters because if a large enough piece falls off it could capsize.) After about 3 hours of glacier watching I returned to Calafate and fixed dinner, then retired to my sleeping bag for the night.
Day 14 (Dec 11, 2006)
Well my Patagonian adventure is winding down--I fly back to Santiago tomorrow at 5:00 pm. Today looks to be a lot of traveling as well, because I'm hoping to reach Punta Arenas tonight and spend one more evening at the Hostal Independencia with Eduardo. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear about my travels.
Although I wouldn't trade this trip for the world, I was really excited to board the bus headed to Puerto Natales this morning. For the first time I'm heading home, and in 4 short days I'll be back in the good old US of A. It will be very sad to leave Chile behind and even more difficult to leave all the good friends I've made along the way. It's been a wonderful experience and I've made memories that will last a lifetime. Thank you all for allowing me to share them through this blog and I hope you all learned something along the way; I know I did. See you soon!
Chao, y por la ultima vez, ya me voy. (Bye, and for the last time, I'm out.)Andrius
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Torres del Paine
Hello Friends!
I'm writing this entry from American soil again, and unfortunately my keyboard doesn't have all the cool punctuations like upside-down exclamation points and question marks. Hopefully it doesn't loose too much Chilean flavor. Like the last, this entry is composed of journal entries written by yours truly during the second of two backpacking trips in Patagonia. We hiked the "W" through Parque Nacional Torres del Paine for three nights and four days. It was an experience completely opposite the first trek as the park is an international destination for trekkers. We spoke almost no Spanish; instead we spoke English and heard French, German, Japanese, Hebrew, and more. Enjoy.
There is no entry for day 5 because it was spent in un-noteworthy fashion in Punta Arenas prepping for the trek and hanging out with Eduardo, the owner of the hostel. Come to think of it, I did meet a cool British couple last night--we watched the MTV European Music Awards. The commentary from the Brits was hilarious. I also met a German family with 2 kids aged 14 and 12 who were taking an entire year off school to travel the world. I was really impressed. Apparently the kids were both going to skip a year of school, and instead of moving up a class they're simply going to travel for a year and return to school with the same class.
Day 6 (Day 1 Torres del Paine)
Today began adn the ungodly hour of 6am because the direct bus to TDP left at 7:00 am. We somehow managed to make the bus on time, and it was one of those wierd chilean-bus-comes- to-this-random- corner-at-said-time-instances where you're never sure if you're in the right spot. Jeff and I wandered around looking confused for a few minutes until a couple older guys tipped us off that we were, in fact, in the correct location. We caught the bus ($10.000 pesos = $20 USD) and were on our way. The buses here are almost always way too hot, and there is no way to open a window or cool off. Hence, we arrived at the park 5 hours later sweaty and very ready to be on our way. Once again, the first part of the hike was rough. Jeff and I both agreed that our packs weighed about 15 lbs more than they did on the Dientes loop--probably because we brought a little extra food: 5 chorizo instead of 2, two bulging bags of cocoa, one bulging back of powdered milk, 2 entire onions instead of 1, and 6 bags of spaghetti sauce instead of 4. We resolved to eat a big dinner tonight. The "W" is the most popular route through the park because it takes the trekker to all the most spectacular sights in the park: the Torres themselves, Los Cuernos (the horns) and Glacier Grey. It is designed as a 4 night loop--the trekker hikes during the day to the base of a valley where he/she sets up camp, and then visits each attraction as a day hike. Because we didn't want to pay the 3.500 peso fee to camp, Jeff and I made the decision to hike up another 3 hours (according to the map) to the free camping. This made for a much more difficult hike, and 2 hard hours of hiking later we pitched our tent for free at "Campamento Torres."
Upon arrival we were asked to translate a letter for some german guy who didn't speak a lick of Spanish. His tent had been broken into and he wanted a letter notarized by the park rangers saying what had been stolen so that he could collect his insurance money. We translated the letter no problem. After setting up camp we hiked up 45 minutes to the Torres. They are very impressive, although I've seen them so many times in photos that I feel like I've already been here. We stayed for about 30 minutes and snapped photos then headed down. Dinner was spaghetti again and we'll be having that 2x more this week. Determined to shed weight from our packs we made a ton, and I am stuffed. It's now 10:15 and we're both in bed, ready to sleep. I'm tired and we have a big day tomorrow.
Day 7 (Day 2 TDP)
We slept through the alarm again today and therefore didn't set of till about 10 am. It was a long day of hiking. We left the campsite below the Torres and headed for Los Cuernos. All told I'm sure we did 20-25 km today, most of it with full packs. Almost all day we followed the shoreline of the icy blue glacial Lake Nordenskjold. It is really quite beautiful. At one point we ran into a frantic wife and her tour guide who seemed to have lost a 2 meter tall 40 year-old man named Miguel , a feat I found impressive on the clearly marked trail. He had only been lost some 15 minutes, but these two were going crazy! The woman was crying ad the guide was risking his life peering over a cliff to see if Miguel had fallen. At one point he asked Jeff and I to form a chain and support him as he leaned over the edge. Finally Jeff and I left to notify the rangers, and I don't know what became of it in the end. I think that Miguel had for some reason turned around and headed back to the campsite, and I'm sure he was just fine.
At "Campamento Los Cuernos" we set up camp, had some hot chocolate and headed up the trail to view the cuernos. It was raining so we couldn't see the cuernos very well, but on the opposite side of the valley we could see the Glacier Frances. The glacier(s) cling to the mountainside in impressive fashion. Every few minutes, a big chunk falls off. First you see a cascade of snow and ice that looks like a waterfall. Next, a boom that sounds like a prolonged clap of thunder reaches your ears. It is an incredible spectacle. The hike, although wet and uneventful, was splendid. Jeff turned around after an hour or so because his knee was hurting and I hiked alone for a bit. It was good to be alone, the rain and hour of day made me the only person on the trail. I'm tired, so that's all for now.
Day 8 (Day 3 TDP)
Today was really fun. We headed out of "Campamento Italiano" and toward Glacier Grey. I'm sure we did 25 km again today to reach "Campamento Las Guardas." There aren't as many people here, and the majority that are are hiking the circuit, a longer 7 day trek that goes through the entirety of the park. It rained hard today for about an hour, and I got soaked, but I dried out when we stopped to eat lunch at the refugio at the base of the valley. We ran into Jeff's parents at lunch because they're doing the W in the opposite direction, and Jeff has plans to meet up with them afterwards to go on a cruise. The funniest moment all day was when Jeff's dad dropped trow (aka deck change, changing into shorts from pants) in public. Jeff looked over at just the right moment and saw his dad in his underwear. His facial expression belied perfectly his train of thought: recognition, disbelief, and finally embarrassment. It was priceless.
We parted ways with his folks and headed up the valley toward the glacier. At the last refugio before the campsite, I bought a coke with the intention of pouring it over glacial ice. Unfortunately the campsite sits a solid 100 meters above the glacier (although on the map they're practically on the same contour line) and I wound up just drinking a $2.00 coke. The glacier is spectacular and the spectrum of color is unbelievable: everything from white to dark blue. I sat for a long while and watched in silence. It's so massive, steady and impressive, and it seems to stretch on forever. Actually it kind of does, because the glacier joins up with the Patagonian ice cap that covers hundreds of square miles. It was very quiet, watching the glacier, with not a breath of wind. At times it was possible to hear the slow creaking as it pushed it's way imperceptibly downwards into the lake.
Just before I got into the tent to write this entry we talked to a group of 2 Americans and 4 Israelis. The Israelis were fresh out of the army and they were a riot. They also brought an ipod with speakers, and as I lay in the tent I can hear "How many roads" by Bob Dylan. One Israeli has been dubbed "the donkey" by his friends because he reminds them of the donkey from Shrek, and the comparison isn't that far off. Tomorrow we're considering tagging a 7 hour dayhike up to a viewpoint onto our 5 hour descent to the refugio, but somehow I don't think we'll be capable of waking up at 5:30 to accomplish it.
Day 9 (Day 4 TDP)
Not suprisingly, we didn't roll out of bed until 11 o'clock. I thought it was raining again this morning, but it was just those stupid bugs pattering about between the rain fly and tent. It's the second morning I've slept in because I thought it was raining. Anyway, it was a wise decision not to hike more because we are both exhausted and rather worse for the wear. I think we would have died trying to climb the pass. We hiked back to the refugio where we ate lunch with Jeff's parents yesterday, and then paid $11.ooo pesos to take the boat back out of the park. The fare was pricey, but they did give out free hot chocolate. We ran into the Israelis again at the refugio--they're hilarious. We also met two Spaniards on the boat named Pablo and Miguel.
I should mention that we are paying 2.000 pesos per night for the hostel in Natales, which is far and away the best price in Chile (that's 4 dollars a night). The hostel was a recommendation of the Israelis and it is full of them. The joint is called "Maria Jose" and the sign out front is in English and Hebrew. We were starving when we came back so we went for pizza at "La Mesita Grande" which came higly recommended. It was nice, and it really was a "mesita grande;" everyone in the restaurant sat at the same long table.
ya me voy
Andrius
I'm writing this entry from American soil again, and unfortunately my keyboard doesn't have all the cool punctuations like upside-down exclamation points and question marks. Hopefully it doesn't loose too much Chilean flavor. Like the last, this entry is composed of journal entries written by yours truly during the second of two backpacking trips in Patagonia. We hiked the "W" through Parque Nacional Torres del Paine for three nights and four days. It was an experience completely opposite the first trek as the park is an international destination for trekkers. We spoke almost no Spanish; instead we spoke English and heard French, German, Japanese, Hebrew, and more. Enjoy.
There is no entry for day 5 because it was spent in un-noteworthy fashion in Punta Arenas prepping for the trek and hanging out with Eduardo, the owner of the hostel. Come to think of it, I did meet a cool British couple last night--we watched the MTV European Music Awards. The commentary from the Brits was hilarious. I also met a German family with 2 kids aged 14 and 12 who were taking an entire year off school to travel the world. I was really impressed. Apparently the kids were both going to skip a year of school, and instead of moving up a class they're simply going to travel for a year and return to school with the same class.
Day 6 (Day 1 Torres del Paine)
Today began adn the ungodly hour of 6am because the direct bus to TDP left at 7:00 am. We somehow managed to make the bus on time, and it was one of those wierd chilean-bus-comes- to-this-random- corner-at-said-time-instances where you're never sure if you're in the right spot. Jeff and I wandered around looking confused for a few minutes until a couple older guys tipped us off that we were, in fact, in the correct location. We caught the bus ($10.000 pesos = $20 USD) and were on our way. The buses here are almost always way too hot, and there is no way to open a window or cool off. Hence, we arrived at the park 5 hours later sweaty and very ready to be on our way. Once again, the first part of the hike was rough. Jeff and I both agreed that our packs weighed about 15 lbs more than they did on the Dientes loop--probably because we brought a little extra food: 5 chorizo instead of 2, two bulging bags of cocoa, one bulging back of powdered milk, 2 entire onions instead of 1, and 6 bags of spaghetti sauce instead of 4. We resolved to eat a big dinner tonight. The "W" is the most popular route through the park because it takes the trekker to all the most spectacular sights in the park: the Torres themselves, Los Cuernos (the horns) and Glacier Grey. It is designed as a 4 night loop--the trekker hikes during the day to the base of a valley where he/she sets up camp, and then visits each attraction as a day hike. Because we didn't want to pay the 3.500 peso fee to camp, Jeff and I made the decision to hike up another 3 hours (according to the map) to the free camping. This made for a much more difficult hike, and 2 hard hours of hiking later we pitched our tent for free at "Campamento Torres."
Upon arrival we were asked to translate a letter for some german guy who didn't speak a lick of Spanish. His tent had been broken into and he wanted a letter notarized by the park rangers saying what had been stolen so that he could collect his insurance money. We translated the letter no problem. After setting up camp we hiked up 45 minutes to the Torres. They are very impressive, although I've seen them so many times in photos that I feel like I've already been here. We stayed for about 30 minutes and snapped photos then headed down. Dinner was spaghetti again and we'll be having that 2x more this week. Determined to shed weight from our packs we made a ton, and I am stuffed. It's now 10:15 and we're both in bed, ready to sleep. I'm tired and we have a big day tomorrow.
Day 7 (Day 2 TDP)
We slept through the alarm again today and therefore didn't set of till about 10 am. It was a long day of hiking. We left the campsite below the Torres and headed for Los Cuernos. All told I'm sure we did 20-25 km today, most of it with full packs. Almost all day we followed the shoreline of the icy blue glacial Lake Nordenskjold. It is really quite beautiful. At one point we ran into a frantic wife and her tour guide who seemed to have lost a 2 meter tall 40 year-old man named Miguel , a feat I found impressive on the clearly marked trail. He had only been lost some 15 minutes, but these two were going crazy! The woman was crying ad the guide was risking his life peering over a cliff to see if Miguel had fallen. At one point he asked Jeff and I to form a chain and support him as he leaned over the edge. Finally Jeff and I left to notify the rangers, and I don't know what became of it in the end. I think that Miguel had for some reason turned around and headed back to the campsite, and I'm sure he was just fine.
At "Campamento Los Cuernos" we set up camp, had some hot chocolate and headed up the trail to view the cuernos. It was raining so we couldn't see the cuernos very well, but on the opposite side of the valley we could see the Glacier Frances. The glacier(s) cling to the mountainside in impressive fashion. Every few minutes, a big chunk falls off. First you see a cascade of snow and ice that looks like a waterfall. Next, a boom that sounds like a prolonged clap of thunder reaches your ears. It is an incredible spectacle. The hike, although wet and uneventful, was splendid. Jeff turned around after an hour or so because his knee was hurting and I hiked alone for a bit. It was good to be alone, the rain and hour of day made me the only person on the trail. I'm tired, so that's all for now.
Day 8 (Day 3 TDP)
Today was really fun. We headed out of "Campamento Italiano" and toward Glacier Grey. I'm sure we did 25 km again today to reach "Campamento Las Guardas." There aren't as many people here, and the majority that are are hiking the circuit, a longer 7 day trek that goes through the entirety of the park. It rained hard today for about an hour, and I got soaked, but I dried out when we stopped to eat lunch at the refugio at the base of the valley. We ran into Jeff's parents at lunch because they're doing the W in the opposite direction, and Jeff has plans to meet up with them afterwards to go on a cruise. The funniest moment all day was when Jeff's dad dropped trow (aka deck change, changing into shorts from pants) in public. Jeff looked over at just the right moment and saw his dad in his underwear. His facial expression belied perfectly his train of thought: recognition, disbelief, and finally embarrassment. It was priceless.
We parted ways with his folks and headed up the valley toward the glacier. At the last refugio before the campsite, I bought a coke with the intention of pouring it over glacial ice. Unfortunately the campsite sits a solid 100 meters above the glacier (although on the map they're practically on the same contour line) and I wound up just drinking a $2.00 coke. The glacier is spectacular and the spectrum of color is unbelievable: everything from white to dark blue. I sat for a long while and watched in silence. It's so massive, steady and impressive, and it seems to stretch on forever. Actually it kind of does, because the glacier joins up with the Patagonian ice cap that covers hundreds of square miles. It was very quiet, watching the glacier, with not a breath of wind. At times it was possible to hear the slow creaking as it pushed it's way imperceptibly downwards into the lake.
Just before I got into the tent to write this entry we talked to a group of 2 Americans and 4 Israelis. The Israelis were fresh out of the army and they were a riot. They also brought an ipod with speakers, and as I lay in the tent I can hear "How many roads" by Bob Dylan. One Israeli has been dubbed "the donkey" by his friends because he reminds them of the donkey from Shrek, and the comparison isn't that far off. Tomorrow we're considering tagging a 7 hour dayhike up to a viewpoint onto our 5 hour descent to the refugio, but somehow I don't think we'll be capable of waking up at 5:30 to accomplish it.
Day 9 (Day 4 TDP)
Not suprisingly, we didn't roll out of bed until 11 o'clock. I thought it was raining again this morning, but it was just those stupid bugs pattering about between the rain fly and tent. It's the second morning I've slept in because I thought it was raining. Anyway, it was a wise decision not to hike more because we are both exhausted and rather worse for the wear. I think we would have died trying to climb the pass. We hiked back to the refugio where we ate lunch with Jeff's parents yesterday, and then paid $11.ooo pesos to take the boat back out of the park. The fare was pricey, but they did give out free hot chocolate. We ran into the Israelis again at the refugio--they're hilarious. We also met two Spaniards on the boat named Pablo and Miguel.
I should mention that we are paying 2.000 pesos per night for the hostel in Natales, which is far and away the best price in Chile (that's 4 dollars a night). The hostel was a recommendation of the Israelis and it is full of them. The joint is called "Maria Jose" and the sign out front is in English and Hebrew. We were starving when we came back so we went for pizza at "La Mesita Grande" which came higly recommended. It was nice, and it really was a "mesita grande;" everyone in the restaurant sat at the same long table.
ya me voy
Andrius
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Isla de Navarino
¡Hola Amigos!When I got off the plane in Punta Arenas on the 25th of November, I really had no clear idea of what I was going to do. I had considered hiking the seven day circuit through Torres del Paine, or visiting Parque Nacional Los Glaciares, a segment of the Argentinian side of Patagonia, but other than those options I had no other plans. With a total of seventeen days to kill in the southern wilds, I was looking for another option. I picked up my backpack from the baggage claim, and walked out into the terminal. One thing I have learned during my travels is that at the information booth of most airports there is a small, free publication written for tourists (always in English) with very good advice. It's usually kind of like a small guidebook; for example, in Buenos Aires there was an article entitled "What to do with only Seven Days in Buenos Aires". The airport in Punta Arenas was no exception. As I sat in the transfer shuttle waiting to go to the hostel, I began to peruse a publication called "Blacksheep". Immediately, an article called "Dientes Circuit Review" by J. Williams caught my eye. The article goes on to describe what is billed as "the southernmost trekking experience in the world". It is well written; here's a sample.
For 53 km the route winds through an other-worldly landscape of mountains broken from the floor of the ocean, where the Andes crumble into the antarctic plate, where tenuous passes from one valley to the next defy truly staggering winds and where spartan vegetation clings to a precarious existence between the punishing climate and the persistent manipulations of the introduced beaver. For the serious trekker, the five day Dientes Circuit is a chance to experience a unique terrain at what is literally the last scrap of land before the legendary Cape Horn and Antarctic sea. And while the route offers many worthy experiences, like awesome vistas that stretch as fas as the Cape Horn straits, it is also impressive for what it lacks, like crowded trails, clearly defined paths and over-crowded refugios. In fact, there are no refugios on the route. There is no entrance fee to pay, trekkers are only required to check in with the Carabineros in Puerto Williams.
I simply had to go. The following are journal entries written by yours truly during the trip. They have been edited slightly for content and grammar, but stand largely un-altered to give you, dear reader, a first hand look at the end of the world.
Day 1 (Monday, 27th November): Getting There
Today was very hectic. This morning, Jeff and I didn't even know if the flight to Puerto Williams, the only town on "La Isla de Navarino", left at 7 am or 9 pm, let alone whether there were seats available. Thankfully we went food shopping last night so we were prepared to set of on any excursion with a duration of 5 days or fewer. We called the airline, DAP, at 7am this morning and asked about flight info. We were told to come down to the office, "al tiro" (right away). Once there, we talked with a very friendly gentleman who did everything in his power to find a feasible manner for us to have 4 days on the island. We tried every combination of flight dates that we could think of. Finally, we reserved a flight down and were put on the waiting list for the return flight. "Come back at three" he said, "and we'll have your answer". At this point we had given up on the 4 day trip and were simply trying to squeeze in 2 days here or there. We moped around for the day, and went back at 3. I'll never know if it was sheer luck or a gift from God, but when we went back he told us that our original flight dates, our "ideal plan" if you will, were available. We were ecstatic! He said to return to the office at 6 pm that same night to catch the shuttle to the airport. With these flight dates we would have four full days on the island and fly back at 9 pm on Friday, the 1st of December. The next few hours were a mad dash for last minute supplies and preparations, but we made the airport on time.
When we arrived at the airport, the check-in attendant asked if we had any explosives or flammable items in our baggage. We looked at our backpacks which contained no less than 1.5 liters of white gas, looked at each other, looked at her, and said "nope." It had been a battle to buy white gas in the relatively large city of Punta Arenas, and it would be nearly impossible to do so in Puerto Williams, pop. 2500. We were sweating the whole flight down, hoping they wouldn't confiscate our fuel bottles, or worse yet, arrest us as we walked off the plane. However, the scenery on the flight down was so spectacular that we forgot our worries. We saw jutting peaks plunging into the sea covered by glaciers crawling in a frozen cascade into the ocean, bright blue glacial lakes, and an endless range of peaks off into the distance.
When we stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, the first thing I noticed was the air. It was as if I had never breathed before--the air was so fresh and clean that I stood motionless for several minutes just pulling it into my lungs. It was the perfect mix of mountains and sea; I was standing in the mountains, next to the ocean. We took a shuttle into town, checked in with the Carabineros, and not wanting to pay for a room, used the last hour of daylight (sunset was at 10:40 and it's only November) to hike to the trailhead and camp. We heated up our chicken sandwiches on the fire, and as I lie in my warm sleeping bag with a full belly, listening to the sound of a waterfall in the distance, I am content.
Day 2 (Tuesday, 28th November):
Right now I'm sitting in my tent with a very comforting bag of Lemonheads in a very uncomfortable position for writing. I'm trying to figure out why I've decided to journal in the first place--I've never done it before--and have concluded that my excess of time, sensory overload, and the need to talk with someone have driven me to write. It's raining outside, and has been since 1 o'clock, although it was snow when we were hiking higher up. We got a late start today, and didn't leave camp until about noon. When we started hiking it was one of the hardest climbs of my life. I was dying. To make matters worse, Jeff hikes like the hounds of hell are chasing him up the hill. I don't know how he does it...I know for a fact he's been just as slothful this semester as I have, but it doesn't seem to have caught up with him in the same way. Anyhow, I think my saving grace were the trekking poles I bought at Sanchez y Sanchez in the "Zona Franca" in Punta Arenas. I paid 4600 pesos for each one and they were worth every one. Anyway this hill was killing me. No switchbacks, steep, slippery and really boring. After a little more than an hour, I reached tree-line where I ran into the British couple we met on the flight yesterday. They first informed me that they were lost (subsequently inferring that I too was lost) and then pointed me in the direction of the trail. They said Jeff had passed by some minutes ago and was now climbing the hill above. I broke through the last of the trees and stopped, agape, at the spectacular panorama spreading away beneath me. I could see the ocean, Puerto Williams, and the mountains of Tierra del Fuego. Wow. Suddenly I felt like I could fly up the mountain, and I did just that. I reached the top of the hill in no time, and caught up with Jeff.
The middle part of the hike was easy--just cruising on the tundra--however the route (not path, there was no path) began to follow the tree line along the side of a very steep mountainside which consisted mostly of loose scree. Occasional patches of snow were a relief to walk on, but they were few and far between. After about an hour, I was fairly sure we were lost. Both what I had seen earlier on the map, and the description of the trail I had in my pocket, led me to believe that the trail was supposed to drop down to a lake. Problem was, Jeff had the map and he was out of earshot and sight of me. When I finally caught sight of him, he pointed up the mountain indicating that we should climb, not knowing that the trail was below us. Unable to straighten his account, I knew I had to climb to meet him--it would be a bad idea to separate now. After a frustrating half-hour climb I had gained hardly any elevation and I was still unable to communicate with Jeff. As if to emphasize the desperation of my situation, it began to snow. At this point I was worried the visibility would drop to a few meters or less which would be a major problem on a slope where every step loosed scree. Also, a total lack of visibility would simply worsen the situation of being lost and separated. On top of everything, I was exhausted. I should mention that at this point I was mad as hell at Jeff for walking so far ahead and not waiting--I would never have done that, I said. To calm myself, I took a knee and organized my thoughts. "No good panicking" I told myself. I happened to glance below and saw three specks: the British couple and Jeff. He must have seen the trail from above and descended. Now at least a 30 minute descent from the others, and really mad at Jeff, I headed down.
When I reached Jeff, the first thing I gave him was a sizeable piece of my mind. I said something along the lines of "I didn't hike this alone for a reason, and it does us a fat lot of good when you have the map, I have the compass, and we're lost half a mile apart!" He apologized immediately, but I was still furious. To sooth my temper, I plopped on the ground and ate my sandwich. Afterwards, I gave him a whistle and told him that if he ever walked that far ahead again I would really let him have it. He put the whistle in his pocket instead of around his neck (if you wonder how that made me feel you have never backpacked with me), apologized again, and explained that sometimes he simply got in a rhythm and forgot to look behind. Still mad, I spat a caustic glob of sarcasm in his general direction and turned to walk. The rest of the day was uneventful--we arrived, made camp, and I made a half-hearted attempt at fishing; I was too tired to give it a real go.
Day 1 (Monday, 27th November): Getting There
Today was very hectic. This morning, Jeff and I didn't even know if the flight to Puerto Williams, the only town on "La Isla de Navarino", left at 7 am or 9 pm, let alone whether there were seats available. Thankfully we went food shopping last night so we were prepared to set of on any excursion with a duration of 5 days or fewer. We called the airline, DAP, at 7am this morning and asked about flight info. We were told to come down to the office, "al tiro" (right away). Once there, we talked with a very friendly gentleman who did everything in his power to find a feasible manner for us to have 4 days on the island. We tried every combination of flight dates that we could think of. Finally, we reserved a flight down and were put on the waiting list for the return flight. "Come back at three" he said, "and we'll have your answer". At this point we had given up on the 4 day trip and were simply trying to squeeze in 2 days here or there. We moped around for the day, and went back at 3. I'll never know if it was sheer luck or a gift from God, but when we went back he told us that our original flight dates, our "ideal plan" if you will, were available. We were ecstatic! He said to return to the office at 6 pm that same night to catch the shuttle to the airport. With these flight dates we would have four full days on the island and fly back at 9 pm on Friday, the 1st of December. The next few hours were a mad dash for last minute supplies and preparations, but we made the airport on time.
When we arrived at the airport, the check-in attendant asked if we had any explosives or flammable items in our baggage. We looked at our backpacks which contained no less than 1.5 liters of white gas, looked at each other, looked at her, and said "nope." It had been a battle to buy white gas in the relatively large city of Punta Arenas, and it would be nearly impossible to do so in Puerto Williams, pop. 2500. We were sweating the whole flight down, hoping they wouldn't confiscate our fuel bottles, or worse yet, arrest us as we walked off the plane. However, the scenery on the flight down was so spectacular that we forgot our worries. We saw jutting peaks plunging into the sea covered by glaciers crawling in a frozen cascade into the ocean, bright blue glacial lakes, and an endless range of peaks off into the distance.
When we stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, the first thing I noticed was the air. It was as if I had never breathed before--the air was so fresh and clean that I stood motionless for several minutes just pulling it into my lungs. It was the perfect mix of mountains and sea; I was standing in the mountains, next to the ocean. We took a shuttle into town, checked in with the Carabineros, and not wanting to pay for a room, used the last hour of daylight (sunset was at 10:40 and it's only November) to hike to the trailhead and camp. We heated up our chicken sandwiches on the fire, and as I lie in my warm sleeping bag with a full belly, listening to the sound of a waterfall in the distance, I am content.
Day 2 (Tuesday, 28th November):
Right now I'm sitting in my tent with a very comforting bag of Lemonheads in a very uncomfortable position for writing. I'm trying to figure out why I've decided to journal in the first place--I've never done it before--and have concluded that my excess of time, sensory overload, and the need to talk with someone have driven me to write. It's raining outside, and has been since 1 o'clock, although it was snow when we were hiking higher up. We got a late start today, and didn't leave camp until about noon. When we started hiking it was one of the hardest climbs of my life. I was dying. To make matters worse, Jeff hikes like the hounds of hell are chasing him up the hill. I don't know how he does it...I know for a fact he's been just as slothful this semester as I have, but it doesn't seem to have caught up with him in the same way. Anyhow, I think my saving grace were the trekking poles I bought at Sanchez y Sanchez in the "Zona Franca" in Punta Arenas. I paid 4600 pesos for each one and they were worth every one. Anyway this hill was killing me. No switchbacks, steep, slippery and really boring. After a little more than an hour, I reached tree-line where I ran into the British couple we met on the flight yesterday. They first informed me that they were lost (subsequently inferring that I too was lost) and then pointed me in the direction of the trail. They said Jeff had passed by some minutes ago and was now climbing the hill above. I broke through the last of the trees and stopped, agape, at the spectacular panorama spreading away beneath me. I could see the ocean, Puerto Williams, and the mountains of Tierra del Fuego. Wow. Suddenly I felt like I could fly up the mountain, and I did just that. I reached the top of the hill in no time, and caught up with Jeff.
The middle part of the hike was easy--just cruising on the tundra--however the route (not path, there was no path) began to follow the tree line along the side of a very steep mountainside which consisted mostly of loose scree. Occasional patches of snow were a relief to walk on, but they were few and far between. After about an hour, I was fairly sure we were lost. Both what I had seen earlier on the map, and the description of the trail I had in my pocket, led me to believe that the trail was supposed to drop down to a lake. Problem was, Jeff had the map and he was out of earshot and sight of me. When I finally caught sight of him, he pointed up the mountain indicating that we should climb, not knowing that the trail was below us. Unable to straighten his account, I knew I had to climb to meet him--it would be a bad idea to separate now. After a frustrating half-hour climb I had gained hardly any elevation and I was still unable to communicate with Jeff. As if to emphasize the desperation of my situation, it began to snow. At this point I was worried the visibility would drop to a few meters or less which would be a major problem on a slope where every step loosed scree. Also, a total lack of visibility would simply worsen the situation of being lost and separated. On top of everything, I was exhausted. I should mention that at this point I was mad as hell at Jeff for walking so far ahead and not waiting--I would never have done that, I said. To calm myself, I took a knee and organized my thoughts. "No good panicking" I told myself. I happened to glance below and saw three specks: the British couple and Jeff. He must have seen the trail from above and descended. Now at least a 30 minute descent from the others, and really mad at Jeff, I headed down.
When I reached Jeff, the first thing I gave him was a sizeable piece of my mind. I said something along the lines of "I didn't hike this alone for a reason, and it does us a fat lot of good when you have the map, I have the compass, and we're lost half a mile apart!" He apologized immediately, but I was still furious. To sooth my temper, I plopped on the ground and ate my sandwich. Afterwards, I gave him a whistle and told him that if he ever walked that far ahead again I would really let him have it. He put the whistle in his pocket instead of around his neck (if you wonder how that made me feel you have never backpacked with me), apologized again, and explained that sometimes he simply got in a rhythm and forgot to look behind. Still mad, I spat a caustic glob of sarcasm in his general direction and turned to walk. The rest of the day was uneventful--we arrived, made camp, and I made a half-hearted attempt at fishing; I was too tired to give it a real go.
Dinner, however, was really fun. We made spaghetti with onion, garlic, green pepper, and chorizo sausage, and it was excellent! Afterwards, we had hot chocolate spiked with a dark green peppermint schnapps resembles mouthwash in color, taste, appearance and smell--but is was a nice touch nonetheless. I remembered, drinking the hot cocoa, that it's my 21st birthday today. Amazing to think that took until almost 10 o´clock for that realization to hit me. Jeff said "shoot man, I guess you're going to have to kill the rest of that schnapps!" I think we understand each other better now, and hopefully the rest of the trip (all 10 days) goes more smoothly. Tomorrow will be long, we've got 15.6 km and a peak to summit if we want to hit a lake with fish in it. Should be no problem because my legs felt pretty good today, and it stays light until about 10:30pm, but we'll have to get an early start anyway. I have had "I want it that way" by the Backstreet Boys stuck in my head all day, and I can't wait to fall asleep and get it out! It's making me crazy. With that, goodnight!
Day 3 (Wednesday, 29th November):
Today was one of the most incredible days of my life. One of the longest, to be sure, but amazing all the same. We woke up at a reasonable 8 o'clock and headed out my 9.00. We knew it would be a long, hard day--15.6 km with 2 ascents and 2 descents. We headed out of the campsite and hiked up above timberline. The British couple buggered out; we saw them heading back when we were leaving camp. Above timberline the landscape was all rocks and snow; there was no vegetation whatsoever. The rock formations, however, were substantially more interesting than most plants I've seen. Because no one has stepped all over them, they have very cool patterns and juttings-out. I took photos of several. We continued climbing upwards toward the Dientes Pass marked by SNUPIE #15 following a fairly decent trail of cairns. SNUPIE is a French system of trail markings--there are 30-odd SNUPIES on the circuit and one follows the blazes from SNUPIE to SNUPIE. After several hours of hiking, we reached a high saddle marked by a huge cairn with a number on it. "SNUPIE 15," we thought. At this point we made 2 mistakes. Mistake A: neither of us looked to see if the number on the cairn was actually 15 and not some other number. Mistake B: I ignored my compass. I should mention that the compass is a little questionable in the first place. It has a tendency of sticking and one is never quite sure which way it's trying to point--factors that made me predisposed to doubt it. Anyway, the directions said to head down the valley to the South, staying to the left of the lakes. My compass showed the lakes to be exactly north of us. Oh well, I thought, either the compass is broken or the magnetism of the poles has reversed and the whole modern world is currently in a state of chaos not seen since Y2K (sarcastic chuckle). All we knew was that we were supposed to hike down a valley to the left of a lake, and that's what we did.
Day 3 (Wednesday, 29th November):
Today was one of the most incredible days of my life. One of the longest, to be sure, but amazing all the same. We woke up at a reasonable 8 o'clock and headed out my 9.00. We knew it would be a long, hard day--15.6 km with 2 ascents and 2 descents. We headed out of the campsite and hiked up above timberline. The British couple buggered out; we saw them heading back when we were leaving camp. Above timberline the landscape was all rocks and snow; there was no vegetation whatsoever. The rock formations, however, were substantially more interesting than most plants I've seen. Because no one has stepped all over them, they have very cool patterns and juttings-out. I took photos of several. We continued climbing upwards toward the Dientes Pass marked by SNUPIE #15 following a fairly decent trail of cairns. SNUPIE is a French system of trail markings--there are 30-odd SNUPIES on the circuit and one follows the blazes from SNUPIE to SNUPIE. After several hours of hiking, we reached a high saddle marked by a huge cairn with a number on it. "SNUPIE 15," we thought. At this point we made 2 mistakes. Mistake A: neither of us looked to see if the number on the cairn was actually 15 and not some other number. Mistake B: I ignored my compass. I should mention that the compass is a little questionable in the first place. It has a tendency of sticking and one is never quite sure which way it's trying to point--factors that made me predisposed to doubt it. Anyway, the directions said to head down the valley to the South, staying to the left of the lakes. My compass showed the lakes to be exactly north of us. Oh well, I thought, either the compass is broken or the magnetism of the poles has reversed and the whole modern world is currently in a state of chaos not seen since Y2K (sarcastic chuckle). All we knew was that we were supposed to hike down a valley to the left of a lake, and that's what we did.
We took off down a field of snow and walked across several avalanche-prone slopes to get down to the lake. When we got there, we couldn't find SNUPIE #16. We walked around for about 1 hour climbing high points, comparing topography on the map, and reading hiking instructions. Everything seemed to fit, but we couldn't find the SNUPIE. Jeff kept saying "we hit snupie 15 and came down, where else could we be?"I wasn't so sure, and that phrase "where else could we be" didn't sit well with me at all. While I'm here, let me add a small sidenote. This saddle above the valley was the windiest place I've ever been. About once every two minutes a blast of wind strong enough to knock you off your feet would come by and, well, knock you over. Having a 45lb pack certainly didn't help things either. I'm not kidding or exaggerating--I had to kneel or crouch repeatedly to avoid being thrown to the ground. It was especially brutal trying to look at a map, and being lost we were doing a good deal of that. The wind was so strong that one could lean back at about a 45 degree angle, as if lying on a large poofy mattress of air. Lost in this wind tunnel, I had the presence of mind to do two things. First I checked my compass, and second I asked Jeff if he actually saw the number 15, not just any number but the number 15 on the last snupie we had seen. By doing both of these things I deduced, correctly, that we had dropped down too early and the lake we were standing by was not in fact the lake we thought it was. The cairn we had seen was snupie 14, not 15. Suddenly everything made sense, and we were able to regain our trail after only a 30 minute walk across the ridge. "From now on", I said, "If we get mad at the trailblazers for lack of cairns, it probably means we're lost." The feeling of accomplishment was really incredible. I had kept cool, made a series of deductions, thought logically, not listened to Jeff, and seen my way through the problem. Although we lost almost 2 hours, we were on our way. We "lunched" at the now-famous snupie #16 and continued on our way.
Over the next 7 hours of hiking the scenery changed drastically several times. First scenery change: old wood forest and spectacular views of the mountain range we had just left behind. The start of the next leg took us upwards toward the peak of a mountain I forgot the name of, and the hike up indicated another change of scenery. The entire peak was a massive pile of shale--each rock between the size of a computer mouse and a remote control. There were a few rocks the size of watermelons, but they were sparse. Climbing was very hard. My legs were already quite spent from the first climb, and the shale was rough on the feet. Not to mention the lack of motivation...who wants to summit a massive pile of garden rock? As we climbed, however, the view became increasingly interesting. We could now see almost the entire Dientes range spreading behind us. Finally, beat and sore we reached the top. The view was really spectacular. On one side were the Dientes in their toothy glory and on the other side we could see Cabo de Hornos (Cape Horn). It was breathtaking. After some quick photos we began to descend a narrow spine covered in shale--to the left a large snow cornice and to the right a steep rocky slope. Eventually we followed the snow on the left down to a shallow lake below.
Scenery change: huge plateau of shale. This part of the hike really felt like the end of the world. We walked for at least 3 km on nothing but rock. It was like walking through xeriscape for a solid hour.
Scenery change: old gnarled forest grove--little underbrush. Very quiet and peaceful feel, and the low lying trees blocked almost all the wind. 30 minutes.
Scenery change: damp thick mossy forest descent. The trail down was incredibly steep, slippery, and incredibly un-ending. My knees were hurting something fierce, and we decided to make ibuprofen stew for dinner. To make matters worse, both Jeff and I fell numerous times due to the wet leaves on mud. The abundance of greenery and plant life was incredible, but the forest had a spooky feel because of the noticable lack of animal life. The only sound was the wind in the trees above and athe occasional bird chirp. 1 hr 15 minutes.
Scenery change: Peat bog. Never-ending peat bog, which was endless and without end. I guess more accurately I should say that the end was always visible but never attainable--like chasing some sort of mirage in the desert. At times we hopped from tuffet to tuffet on firm little green plants. Other times it was like a maze, and one would have to backtrack several meters to find a passable route. We were both very tired with very sore feet and finally, after more than an hour, we reached the woods and the cabin. The cabin was constructed by the Chilean navy in the 60's and refurbished sometime in the 90's. It's a typical, run-down affair with holes in the ceiling and floor, but it had a wood stove and meant that we wouldn't have to set up the tent. We were all for it. The boards were all hand-made, and the floor was so uneven that you needed your "sea legs" to walk properly. There were also various knicknacks left from previous inhabitants, and joy! a fishing net. We started a fire to dry our wet clothes and finally got to take off our boots. At this point it was about 7:30 and I was as tired as I've been in my life. But, I was simply dying to fish so I dragged my weary behind to the lake. Too tired to cast, I threw on a nymph rig with indicator (fancy way to bobber fish) and sat down. Nothing. Soon fish began to rise, so I threw on a big dry. Still nothing. In spite of the lack of fish, the setting couldn't have been more beautiful. The lake was calm--not a breath of air--the fish were rising and the sun was setting over the mountains. Jeff and I were the only people for miles and miles, and it was the sort of moment that only happens several times in a lifetime. I still wasn't catching fish, though, and my backcast was blocked by trees. Finally I got fed up, took off my pants, put on my crocs, tied on a big gnarly cool-looking streamer that mom and dad sent me and waded out into the lake in my shorts. Right away I nailed a big bow. In 30 minutes I caught two big fish and numerous small ones, some of varieties I didn't recognize. The moment was made. I believe the proper word would be "serene." It was a moment to top all moments, and a perfect end to a perfect day. As far as I'm concerned, that place is paradise, and although I will most likely never see it again, I will be able to go there anytime I like.
Day 4 (Thursday, 30 November):
Over the next 7 hours of hiking the scenery changed drastically several times. First scenery change: old wood forest and spectacular views of the mountain range we had just left behind. The start of the next leg took us upwards toward the peak of a mountain I forgot the name of, and the hike up indicated another change of scenery. The entire peak was a massive pile of shale--each rock between the size of a computer mouse and a remote control. There were a few rocks the size of watermelons, but they were sparse. Climbing was very hard. My legs were already quite spent from the first climb, and the shale was rough on the feet. Not to mention the lack of motivation...who wants to summit a massive pile of garden rock? As we climbed, however, the view became increasingly interesting. We could now see almost the entire Dientes range spreading behind us. Finally, beat and sore we reached the top. The view was really spectacular. On one side were the Dientes in their toothy glory and on the other side we could see Cabo de Hornos (Cape Horn). It was breathtaking. After some quick photos we began to descend a narrow spine covered in shale--to the left a large snow cornice and to the right a steep rocky slope. Eventually we followed the snow on the left down to a shallow lake below.
Scenery change: huge plateau of shale. This part of the hike really felt like the end of the world. We walked for at least 3 km on nothing but rock. It was like walking through xeriscape for a solid hour.
Scenery change: old gnarled forest grove--little underbrush. Very quiet and peaceful feel, and the low lying trees blocked almost all the wind. 30 minutes.
Scenery change: damp thick mossy forest descent. The trail down was incredibly steep, slippery, and incredibly un-ending. My knees were hurting something fierce, and we decided to make ibuprofen stew for dinner. To make matters worse, both Jeff and I fell numerous times due to the wet leaves on mud. The abundance of greenery and plant life was incredible, but the forest had a spooky feel because of the noticable lack of animal life. The only sound was the wind in the trees above and athe occasional bird chirp. 1 hr 15 minutes.
Scenery change: Peat bog. Never-ending peat bog, which was endless and without end. I guess more accurately I should say that the end was always visible but never attainable--like chasing some sort of mirage in the desert. At times we hopped from tuffet to tuffet on firm little green plants. Other times it was like a maze, and one would have to backtrack several meters to find a passable route. We were both very tired with very sore feet and finally, after more than an hour, we reached the woods and the cabin. The cabin was constructed by the Chilean navy in the 60's and refurbished sometime in the 90's. It's a typical, run-down affair with holes in the ceiling and floor, but it had a wood stove and meant that we wouldn't have to set up the tent. We were all for it. The boards were all hand-made, and the floor was so uneven that you needed your "sea legs" to walk properly. There were also various knicknacks left from previous inhabitants, and joy! a fishing net. We started a fire to dry our wet clothes and finally got to take off our boots. At this point it was about 7:30 and I was as tired as I've been in my life. But, I was simply dying to fish so I dragged my weary behind to the lake. Too tired to cast, I threw on a nymph rig with indicator (fancy way to bobber fish) and sat down. Nothing. Soon fish began to rise, so I threw on a big dry. Still nothing. In spite of the lack of fish, the setting couldn't have been more beautiful. The lake was calm--not a breath of air--the fish were rising and the sun was setting over the mountains. Jeff and I were the only people for miles and miles, and it was the sort of moment that only happens several times in a lifetime. I still wasn't catching fish, though, and my backcast was blocked by trees. Finally I got fed up, took off my pants, put on my crocs, tied on a big gnarly cool-looking streamer that mom and dad sent me and waded out into the lake in my shorts. Right away I nailed a big bow. In 30 minutes I caught two big fish and numerous small ones, some of varieties I didn't recognize. The moment was made. I believe the proper word would be "serene." It was a moment to top all moments, and a perfect end to a perfect day. As far as I'm concerned, that place is paradise, and although I will most likely never see it again, I will be able to go there anytime I like.
Day 4 (Thursday, 30 November):
Today was hard. It began on the floor of the cabin where we slept because the beds were really gross. Of course, we woke up late. I had intended to fish but the rain pattering on the roof (and subsequently on my face) had taken the wind out of my sails, not to mention the fact that we were completely bushed from yesterday. We cooked breakfast on the stove and turned our backs on paradaise at 1:00pm. We hiked all day--first through the never ending bog and later following the river up the valley. It was very pretty, very soggy, and relatively exhausting. The descent down from the pass was the worst though...I fell 2x in the mud while descending into the campsite. We finally made camp at 9:30pm, and I am exhausted! Blisters, soreness, chafing... you name it I've got it. Phyisically and mileagewise, this is the hardest trip I've done. Dinner, as usual was the saving grace. We did the red sauce with onions, garlic, green pepper, and chorizo, but this time with tortellini. We also had a fire, which was wonderful. That said, I'm going to sleep.
Day 5 (Friday, 31 November)
Today we awoke late (there's a shocker) but since our flight didn't leave until 9 pm we had plenty of time to get out. We hiked about 3 hours to the road, mostly through marshes and bogs. My feet were sloshing around in my wet boots because I stepped in a stream this morning trying fo find focks for a fire ring. (The only rocks available were in the streambed.) The fire pit turned out really swell, though, so I guess it was worthwhile. We found our way into town, let the carabineros know we were back safely, and headed to the plaza to recoup. We took off our wet stuff, found a restaurant and ordered ourselves some papas fritas. We also talked to a guy who runs a quasi-guiding service on the island, and he told me about some fishing holes where 4 kilo trout were the average. I wanted to cry--we had walked right past several of them yesterday, unknowing. I thought hard about changing my flight and staying longer, but it was impossible to manage. We walked the 4 kilometers to the airport (when was the last time you went straight from a backpacking trip and got on a plane) and took the tiny 20-seater home. We're heading off for Torres del Paine the day after tomorrow, so we'll have one day of rest at the Hostal Independencia (thank God), and then it's off on another crazy adventure.
If I don't get them up before then, the photos from this segment will be shown Sunday night the 17th of December. I'm doing a little talk about my experience abroad and my patagonian adventure. Anyone is welcome to come, simply send me an email and I'll get you more specific details about time and place (stumped405@comcast.net). Hope all is well at home!
ya me voy, Andrius
Pingüinos
¡Hola Amigos!Today is Saturday, the 2nd of December, and Jeff and I just returned from the southernmost tip of the world: Tierra del Fuego. We did a 4 day trek through "La Isla Navarino" and it was absolutely fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that I'm not going to write a blog about it now. To do the thing justice I am going to wait until I return to the states to post the blog. Because I know you're all hungry for more entries (hah) here's a little one to tide you over.
I arrived in Punta Arenas the night of the 25th, and checked into the "Hostal Independencia" which had been recommended to my by some friends who came down several weeks ago. It is by far the best hostal in which I have stayed in all my time in South America. The owner, Eduardo, is a riot. He's easy to understand, friendly, hospitable, and a wealth of information. I basically spent the first 24 hours picking his brain and pelting him with questions, yet he never got tired of me. On his advice, we took a short tour Sunday evening to a penguin colony about an hour away. By "we", I mean Jeff, Adam and myself. Adam arrived the same day as Jeff and me by coincidence...he had plans to take buses from Punta Arenas to Valparaíso. As usual, the photos tell the best story.
This penguin in particular was very curious; he got close enough at one point that I could have reached out and smacked him upside the head. I didn't of course, but it gives a good idea of the proximity. I sat down to take a better photo, and between the sound of the camera and the "seated" position this guy had to come see what was up. No one else got as close to a penguin while standing, so I think sitting was the ticket.
Penguin assassin--in this pic it looks like he's plotting to "beak-stab" me.
Here's the main colony. We were not allowed to walk through here, there was only a viewpoint.
Please don't eat the wildlife.
ya me voy,
Andrius
P.S. You can always click on the photos to make them bigger...Hope all is well at home.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Plans
¡Hola amigos!
This Monday marks the last week classes for me at the U, and I will be completely done with school by Thursday. My plans for after the semester are as follows. Saturday the 25th I fly south to the town of Punta Arenas, in the far south of Chilean Patagonia. It is very close to the southernmost part of the world: Tierra del Fuego. I will be traveling with Jeff, a friend from my program, and during our two and a half weeks in the far south we plan do do a serious amount of trekking. As of now our tentative plans are to hike the Circuit through Parque Nacional Torres del Paine which is a six or seven day loop around the park. From all accounts, the park contains some of the most stunning and beautiful landscape in the world. Any google search for "Torres del Paine" will turn up good photos and websites for those who would like to know more. After that we will head northeast into Argentina and do another loop through "Parque Nacional Los Glaciares" which is also said to be stunning. Time depending we may have time to see some other sights as well, but this being South America one can never be too sure. On the 12th of December I fly back to Valparaíso for a quick 3 day goodbye and then I fly to the good old US of A on an overnight flight that leaves the 15th. I will arrive in Colorado on the morning of the 16th.
That said, blog entries from may become a little bit more scarce. When I have access to a computer I will certainly try to post at least a short update on our progress. However, a large blog complete with photos of the trip south may not appear until December, at which point I can promise the most extravagant entry yet.
Don't tune out completely though because at some point Kelsey will post her entry (when she does post it, it will appear somewhere between the entry of "Buenos Freaking Aires" and "Valle del Elqui", I believe). Also see the recent addition of "Gringos in Pucón".
I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving and a for those of you in school, a strong finish in your classes. The next time we'll talk it will be from the southernmost part of the world, and until then:
ya me voy,
Andrius.
This Monday marks the last week classes for me at the U, and I will be completely done with school by Thursday. My plans for after the semester are as follows. Saturday the 25th I fly south to the town of Punta Arenas, in the far south of Chilean Patagonia. It is very close to the southernmost part of the world: Tierra del Fuego. I will be traveling with Jeff, a friend from my program, and during our two and a half weeks in the far south we plan do do a serious amount of trekking. As of now our tentative plans are to hike the Circuit through Parque Nacional Torres del Paine which is a six or seven day loop around the park. From all accounts, the park contains some of the most stunning and beautiful landscape in the world. Any google search for "Torres del Paine" will turn up good photos and websites for those who would like to know more. After that we will head northeast into Argentina and do another loop through "Parque Nacional Los Glaciares" which is also said to be stunning. Time depending we may have time to see some other sights as well, but this being South America one can never be too sure. On the 12th of December I fly back to Valparaíso for a quick 3 day goodbye and then I fly to the good old US of A on an overnight flight that leaves the 15th. I will arrive in Colorado on the morning of the 16th.
That said, blog entries from may become a little bit more scarce. When I have access to a computer I will certainly try to post at least a short update on our progress. However, a large blog complete with photos of the trip south may not appear until December, at which point I can promise the most extravagant entry yet.
Don't tune out completely though because at some point Kelsey will post her entry (when she does post it, it will appear somewhere between the entry of "Buenos Freaking Aires" and "Valle del Elqui", I believe). Also see the recent addition of "Gringos in Pucón".
I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving and a for those of you in school, a strong finish in your classes. The next time we'll talk it will be from the southernmost part of the world, and until then:
ya me voy,
Andrius.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Gringos en Pucón
¡Hola Amigos!Last weekend ISA took the last excursion as an entire program, and it was by far the best one yet. We left Thursday night on a tour bus rented exclusively by ISA. I can't quite express how much more interesting a long bus ride is when everyone on the bus is a good friend of everyone else on the bus. Activities ranged from football to soccer to singing Simon and Garfunkel, Jack Johnson, Counting Crows, CCR, Dave Matthews, Van Morrison, etc. accompanied by an instrument called the chorango (it is comparable to a ukelele although it's origin is South American, not Hawaiian). It was a riot.
Friday was occupied by a tour of the sights around Pucón, whose location in the Lake District of Chile made most of the sights water-related; we saw three waterfalls, a lake, and a hot springs. I think this time I'll let the photos do the talking.
Here's the bus we spent the weekend in. We took a day-long tour in it, we rode it up a horrendous dirt road to the volcano, and we took it ziplining on Sunday. Basically we spent a lot of time getting really cozy with each other. This is the same design as the bus we took to the first soccer game in Santiago (I believe I had a rather colorful description of the seating arrangement in that blog, and here's the living proof). This puppy seats 25.
This waterfall is called "Salto el China" and plunges urgently downwards a whopping 73 meters before turning into a tranquil mountain stream again. I needed a wide-angle lens to fit the whole thing in the shot--as it is the spray of the water hitting the pool at the bottom isn't even visible. From my best estimate, and by best estimate I mean the closest I can come to a real estimate without multiplying anything by -9.8m/s^2, it took the water 4 seconds to fall from the top. In other words this shot falls woefully short of giving the proper perspective of the size of this thing. (Try counting one-onethousand two-onethousand three-onethousand four-onethousand in your head and it'll give a better idea.)
The coolest part of the trip was climbing the volcano, Villarica. It is the most active volcano in South America and shoots up to a height of 2,983 meters. Here's the crew in the tourist agency, suiting up. We got the whole setup--ice axe, gators, pants, jacket, helmet, crampons, boots and a diaper-looking thing for glissading (that's the fancy word for sliding down a mountain/glacier/snow covered slope on your fanny). From left to right is Jessica, David, Will, Alex, Ole (center), Hal, Danny, Aubrey, Kelly, Adam and Anne.
Hal, Luke, and I. When you're carrying an ice axe up a volcano, you don't smile for photos.
Villarica. I thought the cloud formation over the top was really cool, and I'm hoping someone with more meteorological knowledge than myself can tell me what the name of it is.
The crew climbing up Villarrica. In the background of the photo, a large lake is visible. The town of Pucón sits on the right hand shore of the lake. In case you're noticing a trend, it is difficult to capture a normal photo of Adam; see above photo of the rental shop.
Victory! Me, at the top. It's hard to see, but this shot is of the crater of the volcano. The top was so windy and cold that we only stayed for about 5 minutes--it was practically unbearable. It was one of those situations where the wind could practically support your body weight. What's more, the odor coming from the crater was absolutely horrendous. To take this photo I had to hold my breath. If you want to get an idea of the foulness of the smell, take the strongest salt and vinegar chip you can find, place it on your tongue and inhale. When done properly this will make you cough. Multiply it by twenty and you have "arôme de volcan". I managed to get close enough to the crater to get a shot of the lava, but it didn't turn out very well very because of all the smoke. This was the last photo I took before my camera died, so fishing and ziplining in the rain on Sunday are photographically undocumented. All in all the trip was a blast and it was fun to get the group together one last time before we leave. Hope all is well at home.
ya me voy, Andrius
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