Spotting the Condor

This morning saw flashes of sunlight and continued wind and rain. Typical. We went out for a short and easy hike to the Condor viewpoint, towards the southern end of the village. Some people go their whole lives without seeing a Condor in its natural habitat. It's an elusive yet iconic bird in South America. It's the national bird of Ecuador, though they basically don't exist there anymore. It's just as hard to spot them here in Argentina.

We started out on the hike and suddenly I heard my dad yelling from behind me. It was hard to hear because of all the wind, but he was pointing to the dark sky and yelling, "Condors!" My parents were hoping to see one before the end of the trip, and sure enough, they got lucky. There were two condors flying so high up that I couldn't even tell it was them, though they apparently have a 9 foot wing span, making them easy to spot even as they fly high overhead.

I'm not much of a bird watcher, so it wasn't that big of a thrill for me, though I can at least appreciate the luck in being able to see them. They are generally scared off by people and fly away, which they sure enough did just a moment later. We continued the hike to the top of the viewpoint, but could neither see condors nor the mountains, so after a couple of minutes of catching our breathes, we headed back down into town.

This town feels empty today. There are occasional hikers heading towards or back from the trails, but it doesn't seem like there are any locals. They are probably doing the smart thing and staying indoors. We're leaving El Chaltén in a couple of hours to drive back to El Calafate, and then flying to Ushuaia. We'll be there for another couple of nights, and then fly back to Buenos Aires.

I'm eager to get back to the capital. I'll have a lot of work to catch up on with all of the places that I've seen, and I miss the friends I've made in BA. I want to get back and enjoy the warm weather too, because as much as a relief from the humidity as it is, southern Patagonia is just a bit too windy and cold for me. That's why I'm not in Boston right now, and it's time to complain about the heat and humidity again.

No Village For Old Men

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that Patagonia, no matter which part of it you’re in, is a harsh environment to live in. You have to be strong willed to survive here, and as you occasionally see from the abandoned houses, not everyone makes it. El Chaltén is one of those towns that sits in a landscape best described by poets better than me, yet it is also one of the harshest environments I’ve ever seen.

They tell me that this consistent wind and rain is normal for this time of year: the high of summer. To be fair, the wind dies down in a couple of months which makes the hiking safer, but this is the height of tourism season. So the majority of people who come here looking for great hiking realize that they have to do the majority of it in miserable conditions.

We were spoiled yesterday when we arrived on a clear, albeit windy day. We could actually see all of the peaks, including Fitz Roy, that iconic rock face pockmarked with snow. The hotel staff told us it was the first day without rain in a month, and when I pulled back the curtains this morning, preparing for a hike with my dad, I saw that the rain was back.

My parents seem somewhat put off here. I stayed back to do some writing while they checked out the town last night. In an hour from when they left to the return, they went from excited to be here to doubting the decision to come. First there is the age gap. The majority of people here are in their 20’s and 30’s, and in good condition for hiking. My parents are obviously older and not in tip top shape. My mom didn’t even have good trekking shoes, and ironically fell in the street when not paying attention to a groove.

Next is the harsh climate. The wind was so fierce that they almost fell over. But considering that it is supposedly windier in Ushuaia, where we’re headed next, I’m wondering what they will do. They aren’t frail, but once you reach a certain age a fall will take more of a toll than you would think.

Arriving in town yesterday I thought it could be on the cusp of a boom in growth, but I can see now why it still only has 600 full time residents since it’s foundation in 1987. Frankly put, you need balls of steel to live here. It’s beautiful in every sense of the natural world, but this is definitely a frontier town with a sense of vulnerability. The nearest “city” would be El Calafate, and though newly paved roads make the more than 200 kilometer trip easy, you better have a high pain threshold if you fall down the slippery mountain trails.

I don’t feel out of place here, and it’s not just because I’m in the age demographic. I’ve been in the wet dirt road towns all over Ecuador and hiked on trails that didn’t actually exist. A false step to the left meant paralysis and a bad move to the right meant death. But now that I seem like such a tough guy, I will say that I couldn’t live here. This weather is just too much, and I give credit to those who can put up with it. Tomorrow we head back to El Calafate to drop off the rental car and fly to Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego. The end of the world. I can’t wait to see the forecast.

Breathing in Patagonia

From the view in my room at Eolo Lodge, about 20 kilometers outside of El Calafate, I sat on the bed and watched a rain shower sweep across the desert from the mountains west by the border of Chile and end at turquoise blue Lago Argentino, with a wide rainbow frown. The wind was howling against the windowpane and some eagle was flying overhead. This is Patagonia.

I've been traveling through this desolate part of Argentina for a week now, and it has yet to disappoint. Even in the hundreds of miles of monotonous desert that we crossed between Bahia Bustamante and Monte Leon, even against the horrible dirt roads where a rock against the bottom of the Fiat made it seem like an IED was going off, even with the harsh winds that slapped pee all the way up to my face even as I went with the wind, it's still amazing. There's something new and rich about it, and with hardly anyone around it seems like it's all yours.

We only needed to spend an hour in El Calafate today to see that we were better off on the outskirts. With a casino in a small town based off of summer tourism, you walk down the strip with expensive designer stores and wonder where the authenticity went. But we drove 4 hours up to El Chaltén with frequent stops for pictures, and here we have found something maybe not truly authentic, but developing into a tourism hub.

El Chaltén is the newest town in Argentina, founded in 1987. It was essentially slapped together quickly as a way to settle a land dispute with Chile, and a quick survey of the village shows you that people basically set down a house wherever they pleased, and lots of communication and planning needs to be figured out. This is a frontier town, so you get packs of dogs strolling around and a sense of beginning. Everything is on the horizon, which because of the large jagged peaks doesn't really go very far.

The town begins in a small entrance across a bridge and widens out by a valley, flanked by high towers on each side. From the road outside the town you are lucky if you get a clear day with a view of Mt. Fitz Roy, which we got today. I love the Andes Mountains, and this place only solidifies in my mind how diverse and unending it is. From the rolling mountains in Ecuador to the sharp and hardly arable Patagonia, it never lets down or ends. Just when you think you've reached the peak, there's another.

I can add today's drive to another one of those "Best Drives Ever" list that has jumped up sharply since my year and a half in South America. Right now I'm sitting at the lounge of the hotel and the wind sounds like it's going to snap the large windows in half, but so far they're holding out. All around this area are backpackers with the alpaca sweaters and hats (myself included) and old timers with the designer gear.

Patagonia is a land for those who can imagine, and for those who want to imagine. There isn't much to say when you stare at a peak like Fitz Roy, and there's a lot to be said about that. You leave behind the city and find open fields and large mountains, and somewhere in the back of my mind I find that word I used last year, mountnanimous. That's my word, but you can use it. Little else really gives justice to what you see. You just need to shut up and enjoy it.

This morning my dad and I took a hike above the hotel and with the clear day, we were able to see 180 degrees from Lago Argentino, to the snow capped mountains and Torres del Paine in Chile. Game. Set. Match.

Above: Lago Argentino, towards Chile, on the drive to El Chaltén, El Chaltén