El Chalten is a tiny little frontier town at the foot of the Andes in Argentina. It’s a higgledy piggledy town born from the tourism of mountain climbers and hikers, and little thought given to planning.
The highest peak, Mt Fitzroy, was named after the captain of the Beagle who sighted it on his voyage with Darwin. It’s a very imposing granite “obelisk”, the highest of many jagged peaks in the chain. Our first night here was bitterley cold and wet, though we had a break enough in the rain to get our tents up. We huddled around the cook tent and in the truck making empanadas for tea and fortifying ourselves against the cold with the odd drop of vino!
The morning was dry but the wind relentless.....we thawed out hiking up to a glacial lake and a view of a peak called El Torre and Laguna Torre lake....ate a 420gm steak for dinner in a taverna... carnivore’s dream come true. (Bits of meat are few and far between, as Gus the truck still has no working fridge.)
Now the second day in El Chalten, freezing cold but sunny ...all reluctant to get out of our sleeping bags this morning.....even Gus was contrary and wouldn’t start. Hiked up to mirador of Mt Fitzroy before lunch, and then a 3hr horse ride in the afternoon. The valleys are beautiful, the beech just starting to turn yellow.....
My horse was a very kind mare ...she’d just foaled, and handled like a dream. The gauchos here ride with long stirrups and the reins in one hand (bit like a joy stick really). She walked easily across a bridge and the glacial streams, fast flowing but shallow; we cantered across fields full of dandelions,clover and daisies, with views to the snow capped alps and Mt Fitzroy. Felt like I’d stepped right into a Heidi movie......
Thursday 17th:
THE longest day ever....after a really early start we spent 12 hrs on a bumpy dusty Routa Quarente (I was in the back seat!!) covering 550 kms north through more empty landscapes; could be the Oz outback except for the colour....and not a tree in sight for miles except poplars planted as windbreaks around the very occasional estancia; the sheep obviously do well here.....we visited the Cave of Hands (Cueva Manos)in a huge canyon, 10,000 yr old rock art with eerie similarity to Australian Aboriginal art...drawings are of guanacos and hunters, the hand prints are multi coloured and all left handed..
We eventually find a place to camp by the roadside, in what was an old road camp, dusty stony and not a bush in sight, and it’s our cook group’s turn for dinner....thick mintestrone soup around a huge camp fire... and only a few hours sleep...
Friday18th:
On the road early again through pretty little Puerito Moreno and across the border again into Chile - we’re headed through a national park on the way to a ferry ride past the Chilean fjords to Puerto Montt. TJ decides to try a short cut through another border crossing...the Argentinian border is easy; the Chilean is for Ag purposes only and the guards are not pleased with processing us; but don’t send us back through no man’s land, but make us unpack the truck and search every bag and confiscate some food....we have to push start Gus for the second time....
We drive along a vivid blue glacial lake, surrounded by parched treeless hills, then start our ascent into the Alps.....the vista changes completely.....
the panorama could easily be Swiss as we descend.....a very rough road through the national park, pine covered hills, glaciated mountains, and lush growth of wild fushias and nameless plants with massive leaves. We back in a lush humid world of mosses and lichens, racing streams... the odd wooden cabin or farm house.
We shopped for 4 days in Cohaique (oh how I hate the shopping days; our group dynamics are not good, and shopping on limited budgets with no fridge when everyone is tired and hungry is trying to say the least.....)
camp high on a hill beside a lake overlooking town; the sunset is glorious, the showers are freezing cold and we stay up to toast in English Sam’s birthday...
Saturday 19th:
Sarah Tomlinson (- a bright bubbly 23yr old from Brighton; we’re going to check out the family trees) organized a hand made card and festooned the truck with balloons for the birthday....
another long day of lush mountain scenery and forests, a rough road, an idyllic lunch stop where the boys all line up to throw stones in the river while the girls look on .....we find a camp site along side a fjord....we brave a swim, set up a huge campfire on the beach and celebrate Sam’s birthday. Even found some fresh mussels to saute. There are many bottles around the next morning when I put the kettle on
Sunday 20th:
More of the same as we drive north up and over another mountain spur, headed for El Chaiten. Twice we have to push start Gus, and several times on way to camp site the boys had to get out and check the rickety wooden bridges... (TJ clipped the guard rails of one and they sneaked back in the dark to fix it.) A 13 point turn helped them negotiate the curve onto the bridge on the way back...
We camped 25 kms out of town in a grassy patch along side a stream... we’re up late cooking as we have to provide breakfast, lunch and dinner to go for tomorrow and be packed up and on the road at 6.30.... this camping is hard work.....but off road vehicles and camping are the only way one gets to see this unbelievably scenic place.
El Chaiten is almost a ghost town after a devastating volcano covered it with ash in 2009. Many houses are dug out, but struggling to survive after 30 mths because there’s still no power, sewerage or fresh water. It’s eerie..... school’s playground equipment still half buried in ash, just the peaks of roofs poking out through the ash/sand as we back onto the ferry for a tedious 9 hour ride to Porto Montt....an old once prosperous German settlement which thrived on sending grain to States before the Panama Canal was built.
Procured smoke salmon and strong old cheeses from local market as a supper in our VERY BASIC camp .... a stony dirt patch on the edge of town beside a servo and truck depot; litter and you don’t want to know lining the nearby fence..... but it turned into a wonderful night around the fire. Terry the old Aussie bushie from Mandura was a closet balladeer.... he sang and serenaded us with old folk songs and classics in the most beautiful voice.....
Walked into “Banos” at servo at daybreak, and stumbled across 3 young kids are sleeping huddled together on scraps of cardboard....
I wake up with sore throat and a head cold... easy drive down to Pucon, a pretty tourist town on a lakeside, at foot of a volcano....not sure whether I’ll make the climb up there tomorrow....these old bones are starting to tell the tale of sleeping on a ground matt and rough travelling for 6 days!!!!
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