El Calafate, El Chaltén, and the Journey to Puerto Montt

Inhale, exhale. Know that you are alive. Are you still alive?

– Andrew to Reid, upon Reid passing out at sight of Glacier

Reid and Andrew knew once again that they were in fact living beings on this rotating rock we call earth, this time in a town named El Calafate. How they got here was truly a dance with the devil, one that resulted in them leaving the capital of Argentina to a Patagonian town in the Andes. But we shall skip that story, and instead focus on just describing an ice chunk, a big rock and a long ride on the bus (which they lovingly refer to as Lucifer’s Wagon).

The day of our arrival to El Calafate we took to aimlessly wondering much to the chagrin of the hostel staff who attempted to guide us. Leaving the hostel we took a right, which again led us to the ripest green pastures of the town centre. We walked eager to find a car rental that would allow us to take their vehicle 2200km north with no one way drop off fee. This proved impossible. However it did not discourage us from walking into an excursions office and signing up for a hike on the Perito Moreno Glacier.

Big Chunk of Ice

Stoke levels high, we figured that the rental car situation could wait to be sorted out. We headed back to the hostel to partake in the nightly feast of carne. Our meal had four courses: pork chop, sausage, steak and lamb. A meal for kings! We met some Swiss friends and stayed up late into the night, chatting and drinking our $1.25 wine.

Our evening decisions did not make for a pleasant morning. The carne that had been so good last night did not sit well. Pair that with a couple days of no sleep and you have a recipe for feeling nasty. But we had to endure, to go out and see the beautiful chunk of ice. Hopping onto a bus we set off to view the main attraction of the area. However upon the bus’ first stop (a hotel) a good Samaritan turned and said, “You guys know this bus is dropping people off from the airport right?” We had no idea. Another classic shenanigan brought to you by Andy and Reid impulses. We remained unharmed, managing to get to the shuttle in the nick of time. The first stop of the tour afforded us an hour and a half to walk the short trails to various viewpoints of the Perito Moreno Glacier. We also stopped to sit and eat our lunches while the ice calved and shot sounds similar to heavy artillery through our souls. Majesty, beauty, we were in absolute awe.

But it gets better. Back into Lucifer’s Wagon we headed to the next stop, our ferry to the south base of the glacier. Once we reached the small marina, our bus driver slammed on the brakes, turned the engine off and cranked “My Heart Will Go On” from the Titanic soundtrack. Cold sweats instantly erupted from our pores. With apprehension we walked to the bus exit and witnessed above the drivers chair a photo of his head taped to the naked sketch of Rose from the classic film. Wearily we stepped aboard with a feeling of there would almost certainly be a captain beckoning, “ICE BURG AHEAD!” The boat never sunk, and our hike on the glacier went without a hitch. Whew, thanks universe! We felt like explorers trying to reach the South Pole. The day was great, nearly making us forget our sickness.

The following day was spent hiking a local El Calafate mountain. El Calafate is filled to the brim with stray dogs. For the most part they seem to be really good boys, and we have nicknamed a handful. The one we are a little unsure of (who tries to bite every passing car) we have named Psychopath-Freak. Another pooch we witnessed on our multiple walks we nicknamed Fat Lardo, due to him being fat and also a lardo. When leaving for the hike, two of the best dogs (named Stormy and Gerhard after our Iguazu boat driver) ran to meet us and hiked the whole day.

The hostel in El Calafate had a relaxing vibe and we chilled out there to make some future plans. A road trip was fairly important to us, and Andrew ended up finding a way to make it work by renting and returning to Puerto Montt in Chile. Getting there was going to be a major inconvenience, so we took some days to just soak in America Del Sur. With short memories we made our final El Calafate meal another barbecue, this one complete with beef small intestine. Not one single regret was had.

A Big Rock

A morning bus from El Calafate to El Chalten took us passed flocks of Guanacos and the occasional Emu. The scenery was so nice I had to ask the bus driver to come to a complete halt so I could take a computer selfie.

We did not have much time in El Chalten, so our objective was to get to the Fitz Roy campsite ASAP, wake up in the morning to go see the sunrise, pack up and come down. We needed to chow down and drop some gear off first, and both tasks were accomplished with relative ease. An individual from China was following us around after the bus, assuming we were heading the Fitz Roy. He randomly accompanied us for most of our errands, but eventually got bored and ran away. We would later see him running to and fro, looking generally lost. We sure hope he found what he was looking for. On the trail we made fast friends out of two Californians. The clouds had parted and the views were great. Everything was going our way.

Moments after arrival at the campsite the wind picked up and a blizzard started to roll in. It became cold very suddenly. We all went for a walk to try to warm ourselves, but it wasn’t enough. We had to dance.

The Californians were also cheap booze aficionados and offered us some “Breeder’s Choice” whiskey to warm the bones. That did the trick, and offered us a short glance through the eyes of an Argentine ranch hand. Yeehaw. The night was going to be very cold. We had anticipated 3C and had only brought the thinnest of sleeping bags. Andrew was down a sleeping mat. Not much sleep happened that night.

“Awakening” (never really slept) at 3:30am, we made our way up the Fitz Roy summit. The snow from the night before covered the trees and shrubs along the mountainside as well as the grizzled rocks that formed a makeshift staircase to the mountain ridge. It took just over an hour, with the first half hour being only visible with our headlamps, and the second visible through pinkish hues forming in the clouds over the valley. The summit was a sight to behold. Although we did not manage to get a completely cloud free view of the Fitz Roy itself, the sun rising and colouring the snow covered mountains pink and gold was worth the effort.

We came down, and wouldn’t you know it, the clouds finally cleared a bit.

Lucifer’s Wagon Marathon

24hr bus rides are so hype. Soooooo hype. So hype in fact we booked one from El Chalten the day after spending a sleepless night at the foot of a mountain amidst a snowstorm. The reason being that we rented a vehicle in Puerto Montt, Chile, and needed to get there within two days. The bus swerved its way through the Ruta 40 whilst dodging pot holes and veering onto grid service roads at any opportunity. The driver meanwhile played both lanes of the highway while sending snap chats to his loved ones and sharing 100lb bags of Mate with his compadres.

The washroom was off-limits on this particular bus, so when we finally reached a pit stop, most people were understandably antsy. A line for the stalls was huge, each person anticipated their moment. Finally, a stall cracked open and out slithered Swag-Lord Flex who took his time washing his hands. Meanwhile, his stall was volcano-ing water as though he had taken Iguazu Falls and tipped it on its head. The entire bathroom was quickly flooded and 50 people were left to battle a tough physical and mental challenge for the duration of the ride on Lucifer’s Wagon – oh well, only 12 more hours! Swag-Lord Flex was unrepentant and walked away slowly, willing anyone to challenge him. No one did.

Lucifer’s Wagon pulled up to some random road in Bariloche and jettisoned all passengers into the rain to grab their bags and scatter like ants. We hoofed it to our hostel to spend a lovely 9 hours. It was a great 9 hours, but we missed the bus experience so much that we went on another the next day, this time to Puerto Montt, Chile. We showed up to the bus station ready to rock, bags in hand and bus tickets ready to be purchased. Unfortunately, this was the one bus station in all South America that only accepted cash, and we were 120 pesos ($3CAD) short. No matter, I will find an ATM. Unfortunately, this was the one bus station in all South America without an ATM. Built for convenience and smooth sailing. Fortunately, Andrew met the one kiosk owner in all South America willing to exchange pesos for the one Canadian bill he had been lugging around.

So life has a funny way of working out, and we made our bus. Never been so relieved to receive the final two tickets for an 8 hr rumble on Lucifer’s Wagon.

Conclusions

Southern Patagonia is a place one should spend many, many more days than we did. So great, and with all the ice hanging around the capitalistic bagged ice companies are just waiting to be founded. This place definitely warrants its own trip.

El Calafate: 2.5 out of 3 dogs

El Chalten: 1 big rock

Reid and Andy,

Currently in somebodies house, keeping our heads low to avoid the riots in Puerto Montt Chile.

P.S. Reid is WIFELLESSSSSSS NOOOOOOOOO. Oh heavens please have mercy…