Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Parque Torres del Paine, Chile
We did not plan well. There is much to see and do in Patagonia, a region that spreads across both Argentina and Chile and takes up the very southernmost portion of South America. When we first landed in Buenos Aires we spent time with a travel agent buying plane tickets for stops across Patagonia. The land here is so huge, so undeveloped and so varied that (as we found out on the bus from El Calafate) land travel can be a long and bumpy process. Now that we are actually in Patagonia, we have learned about all sorts of things we could be doing if we only had the time.
For example, we didn´t go hiking around El Chalten, a tiny frontier town north of El Calafate in Argentina, and see the Fitz Roy mountain range because we didn´t have the time to get there, hike, spend the night and still get to Puerto Natales, Chile by Thursday. And we have to be here on Thursday because we are getting on a boat and we already bought the tickets.
We are in Puerto Natales, Chile now, ready to catch our boat, but we´ve missed out on things to do here as well. Chile´s national park, Torres del Paine, is just north of here. Many travelers spend 5 to 7 days hiking in the park, but we didn´t have that many free days, so instead we signed up for a one-day tour of the park. Today was our tour day and it started with a cheesy side trip to a cave.
The cave, of course, was down a bumpy, unpaved road. In fact, practically our entire day was spent speeding down bumpy, unpaved roads. The cave was very big. Its size was its most impressive factor. It was a stop along the way because the remains of an extinct animal were found there. The animal was called a mylodon. It looked like a big bear/sloth. A life-sized statue of the mylodon was standing in the cave´s entrance. We snapped a photo and were ready to go. It was chilly and rainy.
The chilly, rainy weather continued as we headed towards the park. Every once in a while, the sun would break out and shine into our van, heating it up. Then it would rain again. The weather here, we´ve read and been told, changes at the drop of a hat.
We finally pulled up to the park entrance an hour later. The scenery around us was a perfect postcard image and would continue to be so for the rest of the day. Torres del Paine is famous for its mountains - a range of sheer granite towers that refuse to erode in the Patagonian wind. In addition, the park is littered with fresh water lakes and rivers of a brillant, Caribbean teal blue. The lakes are glacier-fed; their color is dictated by the minerals found in the newly-melted, uber-fresh water.
Our tour van drove us through the park, past scenery that seemed unreal. The water couldn´t really be that color, could it? The mountains couldn´t really be that steep, could they? Chunks of glaciers couldn´t really be floating so close to shore, could they? Yes, yes and yes. And we felt like chumps passing it all by inside a van.
We did stop for two hikes, both which turned out to be eventful in their own way. On the first, Quang lost his hat. While we stood at the edge of a waterfall, his baseball hat lifted right off his head and tumbled into the nearby fall. We peered over the edge, scanning the water for his hat, but it was gone. For the rest of that hike, we discussed the hat´s merits. It had many, Quang said. It was a gift from his oldest sister. It was flexible. It was adjustable. It was light-weight. It was easy to pack. It was a good golfing hat. It was a good fishing hat. It was a good hat, and, we decided, it had a good death.
The second hike was windy, frigid and wet. We hiked across a stone beach, a glacial lake to our left, an empty, drained lake bed to our right. Massive chunks of glacial ice floated in the lake. Scraps of ice blew up onto the beach and glimmered in the rain. Rain pelted our faces. Wind pushed us along, carrying our feet faster than our bodies. We tripped and grabbed on to each other struggling along. Beneath our clothes, our skin burned from the physical exertion in the cold wind. Strings of snot dripped from our noses and whipped across our cheeks. We sucked quick, shallow breaths trying to fill our lungs. We said many swear words.
But we kept going because ... well, we kept going because we were there, because we would probably never be there again, because the glacial ice chunks looked blue and cold, because the wind was unbelievable, and because everything around us was unbelievably beautiful.
For example, we didn´t go hiking around El Chalten, a tiny frontier town north of El Calafate in Argentina, and see the Fitz Roy mountain range because we didn´t have the time to get there, hike, spend the night and still get to Puerto Natales, Chile by Thursday. And we have to be here on Thursday because we are getting on a boat and we already bought the tickets.
We are in Puerto Natales, Chile now, ready to catch our boat, but we´ve missed out on things to do here as well. Chile´s national park, Torres del Paine, is just north of here. Many travelers spend 5 to 7 days hiking in the park, but we didn´t have that many free days, so instead we signed up for a one-day tour of the park. Today was our tour day and it started with a cheesy side trip to a cave.
The cave, of course, was down a bumpy, unpaved road. In fact, practically our entire day was spent speeding down bumpy, unpaved roads. The cave was very big. Its size was its most impressive factor. It was a stop along the way because the remains of an extinct animal were found there. The animal was called a mylodon. It looked like a big bear/sloth. A life-sized statue of the mylodon was standing in the cave´s entrance. We snapped a photo and were ready to go. It was chilly and rainy.
The chilly, rainy weather continued as we headed towards the park. Every once in a while, the sun would break out and shine into our van, heating it up. Then it would rain again. The weather here, we´ve read and been told, changes at the drop of a hat.
We finally pulled up to the park entrance an hour later. The scenery around us was a perfect postcard image and would continue to be so for the rest of the day. Torres del Paine is famous for its mountains - a range of sheer granite towers that refuse to erode in the Patagonian wind. In addition, the park is littered with fresh water lakes and rivers of a brillant, Caribbean teal blue. The lakes are glacier-fed; their color is dictated by the minerals found in the newly-melted, uber-fresh water.
Our tour van drove us through the park, past scenery that seemed unreal. The water couldn´t really be that color, could it? The mountains couldn´t really be that steep, could they? Chunks of glaciers couldn´t really be floating so close to shore, could they? Yes, yes and yes. And we felt like chumps passing it all by inside a van.
We did stop for two hikes, both which turned out to be eventful in their own way. On the first, Quang lost his hat. While we stood at the edge of a waterfall, his baseball hat lifted right off his head and tumbled into the nearby fall. We peered over the edge, scanning the water for his hat, but it was gone. For the rest of that hike, we discussed the hat´s merits. It had many, Quang said. It was a gift from his oldest sister. It was flexible. It was adjustable. It was light-weight. It was easy to pack. It was a good golfing hat. It was a good fishing hat. It was a good hat, and, we decided, it had a good death.
The second hike was windy, frigid and wet. We hiked across a stone beach, a glacial lake to our left, an empty, drained lake bed to our right. Massive chunks of glacial ice floated in the lake. Scraps of ice blew up onto the beach and glimmered in the rain. Rain pelted our faces. Wind pushed us along, carrying our feet faster than our bodies. We tripped and grabbed on to each other struggling along. Beneath our clothes, our skin burned from the physical exertion in the cold wind. Strings of snot dripped from our noses and whipped across our cheeks. We sucked quick, shallow breaths trying to fill our lungs. We said many swear words.
But we kept going because ... well, we kept going because we were there, because we would probably never be there again, because the glacial ice chunks looked blue and cold, because the wind was unbelievable, and because everything around us was unbelievably beautiful.
