Laguna Toro

Continued from "More Fitz Roy"....






The weather cleared enough that by the time we reached the meadow, I had shed all of my layers and was hiking in my long john's!

The wavy cow path wandered through meadows, past the bleached white trunks of trees which lost their bark in a forest fire, and across deep glacial creeks. We prayed that each time we teetered and tottered across old logs and slippery stones, of creeks both wide and narrow, that no gust of wind would rob us of what balance we had. Trodding across the river valley we reached Laguna Toro, basked in the satisfaction of reaching the end of the glacial valley, and made an about-face to head back up the mountain. This time we had the wind at our backs, and we were practically able to float up the valley, occasionally jogging as the wind slammed into our backs. Miraculously, the weather began to clear, fresh snow gleaming on the higher peaks, and sun splitting the thick clouds.


Nine a.m., leaving El Chalten (tiny town below) via grasslands for Laguna Toro. El Chalten is actually part of the National Park and was founded in 1985. Sadly, the town seems to lack a zoning official. The buildings are poorly and dully constructed, yet it seems that a town based entirely on the hefty and comparatively wealthy tourist crowd visiting Fit Roy could and should be more restrictive and creative with their building styles. There is so much opportunity for the proper development of a town this new that has such a strong cash flow, despite it's seasonality.

Laying on our backs in the wild wheat of the Patagonian pastureland, we admired the looming figures of Fitz Roy and several surrounding snow peaks emerging from layers of downy cumulus clouds with crepuscular rays shooting dramatically upon the valley. Scaling the mountain and returning to our packs, I lacked the gumption to walk 30 minutes back to the picturesque pasture we had so enjoyed--it had, after all, been a 15 mile day and we still had another 2 miles left. Yet I was content to imprint the image of us, Will's head on my stomach, basking in this remote and peaceful grassland, without the benefit of my camera. I believe that the best moments are those that remain unrestricted by the superficiality of a single sense. Photography exposes us to new sights, but it can never replace the sensory feast of knowing the rough touch of the wild wheat or the fresh taste of the pure glacial streams.



This is the view we had from the meadow, but taken from the top of the mountain, nearer to my pack.