The lost Weeks

El Bolson

I returned to Bariloche after my adventure in Nahuel Haupi, and decided to aid my impending cold by going out and smoking cigarettes and getting drunk until 8 the next morning...is this a normal reaction to sitting alone on the frozen grey edge of the world?

Looks like rain

Yes, I got sick, and yes, I lost my bank card. But I didn´t realize either of these things until I had pitched my tent in the friendliest camping (that´s how they call it, and that's how I'm going to call it) in the friendliest town: Ni Nada of El Bolsòn. The smiling proprieters had just been married on New Years Day, and opened the camping only two days before I arrived. After I had chosen the perfect, shady, flat, windless spot, the water polo players at the site next to mine offered to set my tent up and then invited me to their delicious asado. Then we all mosied on over to the fogón, where the boss (who was also the tallest man in Argentina) threw logs onto a comfortable bonfire and we passed around bottles of wine, home made beer and Fernet mixed with Coke (in cups made of the bottom half of the litre coke bottle, with the edges melted to avoid cutting your mouth) and sang songs to multiple guitars and chatted aimlessly. Lovely.The constant El Bolson Artisinal Fair

Three weeks of even that can get tedious, especially when every day revolves around trying to get money from paranoid US banks in cash-defunct Argentina. Me and my North American partner in crime, Sarah, tried to mix things up by going on hikes and never missing the tri-weekly artisinal fair. We did one real hike up to the refugio at Hielo Azul, which brought us through wild rose pastures and forests of moss polka dots. The next day, (after sleeping in the refugio, three wet snoring strangers to a mattress!) we climbed higher (again, past the tree line into snow fields) to the glacier, which shined blue even when covered with snow. At the top, three Israeli guys invited us to coffee spiced with cardomom, made fresh with their little stove.Hielo Azul Base Camp

Coffee at the top

We also camped at Parque Nacional Los Alerces, after a long night of being at a party I didn´t like (electronic music is not really my thing, I guess). We didn´t see much of it, but what we did see makes me want to recommend this park to everyone-more flowers, more lakes, more ancient trees that grow so slowly and have the indestructible wood that still shingles 100-year-old houses. Here, we were lucky to have the company of four girls who we met at Ni Nada, four girls with an old, enourmous and heavy tent, and who played beautiful music. So much music, so many new friends, and beautiful places. Three weeks without a roof can be ok!

Me ("Lil' PinPin") and the Ni Nada gang

En Niño

On the second-to-last day of 2009, I did venture into Parque National Nahuel Haupi and climb those mountains, a new and less comfortable way to celebrate the New Year (harsh winds and malfunctioning tents, camping in the snow, hordes of strangers on top of a dramatic mountain for three days).  It wasn´t so bad. I carried way too much stuff, and actually ate raw raviolis until I realized how gross that is. But other than those unfortunate problems and mistakes, I was pretty astounded by the mountain and environment. The 15 km walk up was through sunny, dry, burnt forest; then along a cool, green, fresh river; then straight up a path of craggy rocks, through scrubby trees, with la Catedral looming over everything, a comb-like mountain ridge of skinny, sharp pilars (apparently a rock-climber´s mecca).

La Catedral with me in the middle

In Argentina, popular hiking destinations are often serviced by refugios. Hikers can sleep, eat and relax at these little, basic houses, and for New Years, I camped by Refugio Frey. It was very nice to have this warm little house to rest at. Sitting in the smelly room, heated by a wood stove covered by dirty socks and wet jackets, trying to communicate with other trekkers from Israel, Argentina, Chile, Switzerland, France, Brazil, Spain, England, Holland, the Netherlands, etc and drinking wine was a nice alternative to the rainy wind that shook the walls of my tiny little tent, and often blew it over. In fact, the wind was so strong that it snapped the poles of the two Himalaya-grade tents that the Holland people were sleeping in, and they had to sleep in the crowded refugio.

My little tent

On my second day at Refugio Frey, the sky was grey with speeding clouds, and everyone was advised to stay put. But my tent and the refugio seemed very very small after a few hours, so I ventured out into the rain (thank you water proof pants!) to climb the first part of what was supposed to have been my second day of hiking. Thank goodness I didn´t try this part with my pack- an hour of negotiating 3 ft of snow over uneven rocks, then two hours of tripping straight upwards, over more uneven and loose rocks. And, of course, the wind.I think I didn't even notice that camera was in black and white mode...the valley below

I guess I was the first one to get stir crazy, so I had this walk all to myself, and I must admit it was a little scary. I could hear the water of ancient glaciar-melt streams rushing below the snow and rocks I was crawling up. The sky was moving so fast that it always seemed like an ominous new weather phenomenom was rushing over the pointy mountains. And when I was nearing the top, I could hear something howling! I thought that I was imagining it, but I kept hearing this sad sounding moan...and soon, a little dog appeared out of the rocks somewhere. I'm not a "dog person", and I have no idea what this dog was doing up there, so I was a little wary of it. But it looked clean and happy to see me, so I pet it and let it follow me into the grey world at the top of my climb. I sat under a rock that "el Niño" (the dog) showed me to and tried to appreciate the same dark grey mountains, grey clouds reflecting on white snow, and a grey frozen lake. I took out my little camping cup and drank from the lake, decided not to give El Niño any of my food (because he looked like he was surviving very well up there on his own), and let myself head back down.

El nino, my helper

I´m happy I got to be up there all by myself. It was amazing to feel so alone, and small in this ancient and inhospitable mountain world.

La laguna at the top

Christmas

After Molly left, I was inspired by a Colorodonian (? A person from Colorado?) I met in Santiago to completely change my traveling style and think about trekking (rather than hosteling) in Patagonia.
First, I spent a tranquil but grey Christmas is Puerto Varas, where two volcanoes frame a massive lake, and delicious empanadas stack the Scandanavian-looking storefronts. On Christmas Eve, I sang along with the congregation of the 8:00 mass to a few old favorites (In Excelsis Deu and Pa Rum-Pa-Pa-Pum) and then discussed the decimation of nature at the hands of the church and the U.S.A. with a French adventure sports guy. The next day, I went Canyoning with the same guy, which entailed putting on a very flattering wet suit and jumping, sliding, skidding, swirling, and repelling down waterfalls, through whirlpools and canyons of marble, in the most pristine blue river I´ve ever witnessed, let alone splash around in with reckless abandon. At the very end of the day, I was hooked into a harness and repelled down a thirty meter waterfall, then jumped 10 meters into a green pool. Not quite the same as non-stop eating and drinking with my beloved family, but more refreshing!

I then geared up in Puerto Montt, and waited in vain for the rain to stop...I waited and waited in this very functional city, which lacks the obvious charm of Puerto Varas, but has something going for it, something like...Worchester? I don´t know. I guess I just really loved the monument to public displays of affection (a continental past time): a huge statue of a man and woman sitting all twisted up, looking over the pacific.  But it didn´t stop raining, and I kept on tramping around in my waterproof pants until I couldn´t take it anymore: I crossed into Argentina. The road from Orsono to Bariloche is a beautiful one. The Lupine Lady must have passed here, because blue, violet and pink cones of color grow against a strong thicket of yellow flowering bush. Whenever there is a pause in the flora, you are granted a vista of a huge alpine lake surrounded by the snowy mountains I had bought a tent to climb...