Patagonian WIND. See how far Will's sleeping pad is bending backwards! The quintessential "I climbed and conquered this mountain" photograph degenerated quickly to "this mountain is currently kicking my ass". I could barely even stand up and removed my flare guard on my lens for fear of catching too much headwind.
The trailhead begins at the edge of town, and save for the gusty headwind, the going was easy. Stopping at the top of the first hill, we devoured twenty shortbread jam cookies, downed some fresh glacial melt river water, and continued until we stumbled upon giant sheets of exposed bedrock along the river with direct views of the elusively shrouded Fitz Roy. Snacking on cheese, crackers, tomatoes, and chocolate, we basked in the sunshine, admired the cliff rising alongside our picnic sight, and chuckled at the tour group of 30 Germans who were so delighted with the entire trip. Their collective gasp drew my attention away from my satisfying mouthful of chocolate (Cadbury with Almonds) and up along the cliff where a pair do Andean Condors friskily wove forty feet from us, riding the wind that ripped along the valley.
Lunching location....
Arriving at our campsite after our three or four hour stroll (Who really counts the time when it's such a pretty day?), we pitched the tent, hung our food, and loaded a day bag with chocolate, water, rain gear, headlamps, and my camera. Walking for thirty minutes led us to a mirador where we could overlook one of the prettier glaciers tumbling from the cliff which supports Fitz Roy. Jagged spears of bright blue ice hang precipitously, giving us the sensation of suspense. Yet our eager, child-like anticipation was in vain, for while the sonorous rumblings indicated that the ice was indeed shifting, no large calves gave way before our hopeful eyes. We headed back to the campsite, as a cluster of ominous rain clouds condensed over our heads, planning to make dinner and seek shelter in the tent instead of hiking up to Fitz Roy. It appeared that we would have to save that trip till morning.
Piedras Blancas Glacier
Despite the threat of rain, raindrops were sporadic, more of a consequence of actually being IN the clouds rather than in a rainstorm. Even after eating dinner, there was at least another three hours of daylight left, and the clouds didn't appear to be much worse than before so we figured, what the heck?! Up the mountain we went, laden in shorts, down coats, and rain jackets--Will in crocs, of course. The sign at the trailhead warned that the terrain was extremely steep and unstable--at last, a trail that didn't resemble a casual boardwalk! The hour long walk took us less than forty minutes as we hoofed it up the mountain, with the increasing wind speeds and growing rainstorm marking our rapid ascent. Reaching the top, we watched the clouds whorl and the rain rush sideways in the gale force winds. Satisfied and soaked, we jogged down the mountain, crawled into our bags wearing all of our dry clothes to ward off the creeping chill of the night air, and slept.
After sleeping for a mere 12 hours, we rose and climbed the mountain for the second time, eager to see Fitz Roy up close. What had been a black and gray mass with violent winds the night before proved to be a beautiful, glacial lake lined peak by day. Snacking on chocolate and chatting with fellow travelers, the atmosphere was optimistic and light hearted. Packing our camp, we departed for Laguna Torre, walking briskly along multicolored green and blue lakes and through verdant dappled forests littered with crooked and tumbledown trees no longer able to withstand the constant pressure of the wind. Rounding the mountain and walking up the glacially carved valley, the wind picked up (almost knocking me down, though my hiking poles saved me many a time) and the temperature dropped degrees with each step toward the campsite, nestled near the foot of the glacier.
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