Great Hiking in El Chalten
El Chalten is surprisingly wonderful. We hadn’t really looked at pictures beforehand; we just decided to show up and see what it was like. El Chalten’s national park, which lies right on the edge of the tiny little mountain town, is extremely well kept and the trails are meticulously maintained. The best part…the park is free! Jenny and I did a hike called Loma del Pleigue Tombado. The map said it was four hours, but I was impressed when we made it in three. From town, you can see the very top tips of the most jagged peaks you’ve ever seen.
The beginning of the hike.
The cool thing about our hike was that it kept evolving; the longer we went, the more of the giant jagged mountain range was slowly revealed. The view at the beginning of the hike. We hiked through open meadows and a green moss-covered forest. We crossed river streams that were full of cool-looking rocks, different than the Colorado mountain streams I am used to. The river rocks in Colorado are individual round spheres; these rocks were flat and shelf-like.
As we approached the top, our environment changed. We began walking on more and more rocks. The rocks were all shapes, sizes, colors and patterns. We saw bright red rocks, vibrant burnt orange, blue, green, shimmering metallic rocks, spots, stripes, deep purple and yellow. It was so amazing to see so many different variations of cool rocks in such a small place. I totally geeked out and picked up a really sweet yellow and blue rock to take home with me.
My new pet rock. Any name suggestions?
The effort of the 3-hour hike seemed like nothing when we got to the end and saw the view. I felt like we should have had to hike way longer to deserve that view. It was a wide, sweeping panoramic view of tiny jagged peaks that looked like towers, rising out of the glacier at the bottom. There was a cloudy grey-blue lake at the bottom of the mountain, full of glacier melt. The thin tower-like mountains nearly surrounded big mountain, Fitz Roy, making it look kinda like a giant fairy-tale castle. The sky was clear and the air was a little too crisp for comfort, but the beauty of the view in front of you helped to distract from the chilliness.
Another cool thing about the park is that the water is absolutely clean and drinkable. You can fill up your water bottle in a stream and there’s no need to boil it or use pills. So, Jenny and I did just that. I hope I don’t get regret it later…
The park is full of fossils. Look don’t touch!
More park pics:
Watch as the Perito Moreno Glacier sheds a huge chunk and leaves a giant blue hole of fresh ice exposed.
The Giant Perito Moreno Glacier
I think today was the best day of the trip. We went to visit Parque Nacional de Los Glaciares for a peek of the Perito Moreno Glacier. The park consists of these nice, modern, bridge-like walkways that line the mountain slope directly across from the river and the glacier; quite impressive. These bridges have lookout points and balconies, so no matter where you are, you’re gong to get an amazing view that’s different from the last platform you were standing on. The walkways allow you to go down and stare at the glacier from below, right near the water, or admire the glacier from a few hundred feet higher.
My first view of the glacier, a few hundred feet up.
This glacier is 2.48 miles wide, 19 miles long, and is about 240 feet high. Its size is mind-blowing. I loved being there; the air was brisk but absolutely invigorating.
It was so peaceful, except for the snap-crackle-pop sound of the tops of faraway ice towers breaking off in the distance and crashing down below into a deep ice crevasse. The glacier is about 5,000 years old and when snow falls on it, the snow takes about 300 years to reach the front and fall into the water.
The glacier is free entertainment, brought to you by nature. We sat there glued to the glacier all afternoon. I didn’t want to look away, for fear of missing the next giant chunk of ice breaking off and splashing in the greyish-blue water below.
On one instance, e sheet of ice that was few hundred feet wide broke off all at one and left this giant, gaping hole in the face of the glacier. You could easily tell where the stark white ice met the new, freshly exposed ice. It broke off so many layers that the ice below was a glowing color of blue.
Can you see the difference?
Jenny and I happened to have a front-row seats when the best iceberg fell. It was the section directly in front of us. Little by little, chunks were falling away, and every time one fell we thought for sure that the biggest chunk had fallen. The falling chunks created gigantic splashes that caused the water to surge out from the glacier towards us. There was so much mist in the air, I could make out a faint rainbow. We squealed like little kids every time an iceberg fell. The biggest crash made me feel a little uneasy, as I was unsure of just how big the waves were going to be. For a split-second, I wondered if we would be splashed, or at the worst, swallowed by the reactionary wave. After the last bit fell, you could see giant hunks of crystal blue ice bobbing to and fro down the river.
Floating on cloud nine is the best way to describe an experience like today. Sergio, the talkative park ranger, told me that watching the glacier everyday is as unpredictable as being with a woman because “they tend to change every day”. He said some days the glacier is really quiet, and sometimes it was very active. Like women, he said, the glacier is “a thing of mystery”.
More glacier pics:
El Bolson. The land of milk and honey.
After Bariloche, we took a quick 2-hour bus ride to a little town called El Bolsón. This magical town charmed Jenny and I from the first moment we arrived. How could you not love a place that offers sunny weather, jagged mountains sweeping across the horizon, miniature ponies in the park, and artisanal ice cream in fruit flavors never before heard of?!
Move over Blue Bell, Jauja Ice Cream could give you a run for your money.
Although we didn’t, we were told by many locals that it’s even safe to hitchhike here. What an odd and wonderful place.
Berry-stained hands are easy to come by in El Bolsón, because wild blackberries grow like weeds along the side of the road and in the parks.
While hiking in Lago Puelo National Park, our path was lined with ripe blackberry bushes. Most of the easy to reach berries had already been snagged by other hungry tourists, so the majority of the berries left required a little work. The plump berries basically called out to be picked. They taunted me with their juiciness and left me no choice but to ignore the many thorn pricks and pick as many as I could possibly stomach. I gave myself a stomachache but didn’t care. They were the sweetest berries I have ever had.
Picking wild blackberries with our friend Amanda.
Frequent farmer’s markets and art fairs help cultivate the laid-back vibe this town is known for. It’s easy to lose yourself here and imagine that this is what San Francisco in the 60’s must have felt like, except without all the protesting. While strolling around the park, you see hippies happily banging on bongo drums and making hemp necklaces, among other things. Funny that their fire prevention group is called S.P.L.I.F.
Our hostel ended up being farther away than we realized. It was an hour’s walk or 20 minute cab ride! We were a little irritated at first, but got over it after seeing how nice the hostel’s kitchen was. The hour walk ended up being scenic, and we figured we could use the exercise after all the dulce de leche we’ve been eating.
Cute little mountain house we saw on our long walk to town everyday.
The lady at our hostel suggested we go to the Río Azul and visit a locally loved swimming spot. It was easy to find. We crossed a narrow, hanging bridge, followed the river down and stumbled upon a wide spot in the river, which seemed perfect for swimming. But first, a few words about that bridge. Only one person was allowed to cross the bridge at a time. As I crossed, I tried not to think about how the bridge was no more than a random collection of wooden boards tied together with wires. Some of the boards had holes in them and the bridge was susceptible to the whims of El Bolsón’s afternoon wind.
Jenny crossing the bridge.
The locals call the swimming spot El Paraíso” (paradise) and as soon as I got there, I understood why. The water was a gorgeous, shimmering turquoise color. You could stand at the edge of the river and peer down at least 20 feet to see trout swimming about. There were a few other people there, but no one was in the water. I quickly realized why when I dipped my foot in. The phrase ‘ice cold’ is quite appropriate in this case. Turns out there is a big glacier a few kilometers up the river, and this water is fresh glacier melt. We saw one brave, burly Brit who decided to go for it. He jumped in and screamed “SHIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!”. After seeing that, I just couldn’t man up. I read my book on a rock and worked on my tan.
El Paraíso in Río Azul.
Four of our six days in El Bolsón were spent wandering around the farmer’s/craft market. Local artists peddled their wares and local farmers sold their delicious produce.
Berry salesman at the farmer’s market.
We ate very well at the farmer’s market. Ground beef, steak, chicken, and capresse were just a few of the empanada varieties available. Carts boasting steak sandwiches, fresh vegetable pies, pizza, and several kinds of fresh-squeezed berry juices lined the park sidewalks.
Fresh raspberry juice, anyone?
It was like I had died and ended up in food heaven, where they have things like fresh grilled Belgian waffles, covered in blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and fresh whipped cream. I washed it all down with a local microbrew and thanked the food gods for smiling upon me.
Waffle sandwiches are my new religion.
More delicious pics:
Beautiful Bariloche
Patagonia, known for its gorgeous mountains and glacial lakes, has been a highlight on the trip so far. We started our Patagonian adventure in San Carlos de Bariloche, a cute village right on the shore of Lake Nahuel Huapi.
Bariloche’s main cathedral.
Strolling down the streets, the town has such a European look and feel, you can’t help but question where you are. Jenny kept asking me, ‘we’re in Argentina?!’. Bariloche is known for its artisan chocolate and has cute buildings made of large wooden beams, reminiscent of a little Swiss mountain town. Huge, furry St. Bernard dogs lounge around the central plaza as tourists eagerly snap pictures.
Bariloche’s Main Plaza.
One of the best ways to see the area is take the Campanario gondola up to the top.
It was weird being in a gondola in the summer. No snow here!
From there, you get the most gorgeous 360-degree view of this impressive mountain range whose valleys have been filled in with melted glacier water. You can see lakes and mountains as far the eye can see.
View from one side.
View from the other side.
Never in my life have I stayed in, or even heard of a hostel having a jacuzzi. But lo and behold, ours did. And you better believe we got a box of wine and made an evening out of it.
More pics:
Mucho Vino en Mendoza
A quick overnight bus ride from Salta, and we were in Mendoza, the land of great Argentine wine.
Our main activity in this area was going on a famous bike and wine tour. Our tour company, Mr. Hugo’s Bike Rentals, was just our style. Mr. Hugo is pretty straightforward: you give his wife about $7, she gives you a decent bike and a map, and he gives at least 2 giant plastic cups of wine before you even get near the bikes. He walks around with a glass pitcher full of cheap wine and flashes you the biggest grin when he gets to fill your glass. When you return from drinking wine all day, he gives you that big grin again and before you know it, you are drinking another (maybe 2) more cups of wine.
Oh, the people you meet traveling. On the 45-minute bus ride out to Maipú (where all the vineyards are), I happened to sit down on the bus next to 3 interesting Israelis. One spoke perfect English, and told me his American name was Tucker (after Tucker Max, the hilarious/crude/womanizing writer). That was not his real name; he proudly told me that he gets a new name in every country. He had been a sergeant in the Israeli army for 3 years and nonchalantly talked about killing people. He was talkative, and told me an interesting story about why he believes American women to be ‘hunters’. Apparently at some posh Southern California pool party he once attended, a girl had been checking him out form across the party. Later that night, the bikini-clad girl walked up to him and his circle of friends, sat down on his lap, pulled a tube of lipstick from her top, and wrote her name and number on his hairy chest. He was impressed but thought she was a slut. He said he never called her. I couldn’t stop thinking about all that lipstick getting caught in his chest hair. He probably couldn’t even read the number. Plus, who wears lipstick to a pool party?
The second was a small, Brazilian guy who had been adopted and raised in Israel. He had somehow managed to track down his biological mother and was planning on showing up at her house and surprising her. He got drunk quickly and didn’t talk much. But I liked him because he kept giving me all the wine he couldn’t drink.
The third, my favorite, was definitely a little off. He had been a sniper in the Israeli Army and told me about shooting two Hamas members. I noticed he was wearing American flag socks with his combat boots, so I asked him why. He told how he was so inspired by a story he had read having to do with an American Navy Seal sacrificing himself for his friends in Iraq, that he decided he was going to become an American Navy Seal. He had put himself in contact with the father of the deceased soldier and was now planning a visit to the soldier’s grave. I found it strange that a foreigner would want to join the American Armed Forces, but he was absolutely adamant about it. He told me, “I like Americans for two reasons: you guys are real, there’s no bullshit. And you’re patriotic”. Ok, I’m alright with that, I thought.
Our new Israeli friend with his American flag socks.
The recommended tour consisted of 12 or so wineries, which is basically impossible to do in one day. Plus there are a few other non-wine related things on the tour, such as a microbrewery and a chocolate and liquor factory.
You can see the eagerness on my face at our first wine tasting.
Obviously, our first stop was the chocolate and liquor factory, where we were coaxed into trying a shot of pure absinthe, complete with caramelized sugar. Sure, it burned my throat, but I washed it down with some fresh, hand-made chocolate samples.
There’s nothing quite like the burn of absinthe.
We leisurely rode our bikes as we basked in the sunshine and the views of seemingly infinite rows of grape vines. The tall poplar trees offered little shade, but they added a certain something to the feeling of small-town quaintness.
My favorite winery was Tempus Alba, a small, family run winery that has a terrace overlooking all their grape vines. I had a wine tasting and ended up buying a bottle (that says something about how good it is, because now I have to carry it in my backpack!).
Thank God you have to pay for wine tastings because otherwise, I think there’d be a lot of flattened tourists and mangled bikes on the road. One would think that with all the bike-and-wine tourism, there’d be roads more suitable for bikes. Nope. No shoulders or bike lanes, just a two-lane stretch of road, that wasn’t completely paved.
The world through my eyes on my bike ride back.
I had several close encounters with some cars, one of which was the police car that drives around at the end of the day, you know, making sure the drunk tourists aren’t getting hit by cars.
More pics:
Giant Juice Boxes in Salta
After a grueling 13-hour bus ride (3 of which we were parked at the border), Jenny and I needed to blow off some steam. What better way than to get weird and get wasted? For those Arrested Development fans out there, Jenny and I located the largest juice boxes known to man (2 bucks for a whole liter of red wine), used her knife to poke a hole in the top, and happily sipped wine out of a straw. Buster would have been proud.
The guy at our hotel even gave us a ‘thumbs up’ motion when he saw the straws.
Those juice boxes did a number on us. From what we can gather, we made lots of new Argentine friends, went to a dance club (I know, right???) and kept screaming all night about how all we want is to be like Buster and drink juice boxes. I know no one knew what we were talking about. I awoke the next morning to find a little slip of paper folded up in my bra. It was our entry stub to the dance club. Ironically, the club was called ‘Amnesia’. Figures.
You should check out more Salta pics:
River Crossing with a Bike
While in San Pedro de Atacama, we decided to rent a couple mountain bikes so we could visit ruins situated about 3km/1mile from town. Seemed easy enough, we thought. No one mentioned to us that there were a couple rivers between us and these ruins! We found out the hard way.
Once on the other side, we washed the sticky clay like mud from our feet, and put our shoes back on. I thought ‘ok good, that’s the worst of it’. I was wrong.
No less than a few hundred feet later, I found myself once again removing my shoes, and awkwardly trying to push my bike through the rocky red river. When we came up the third, I was about to scream…luckily the path curved and took us right to the ruins. A mere mile had taken us an hour and a half. Getting to the top of the ruins were a nice little hike and the view from the top was great. The snow covered volcano on the horizon was amazing.
More pics:
Static Electricity in Valle de la Luna
I must say, Chile has not been a favorite on this trip, nor my last trip to South America, mainly due to cost. Cost-wise it’s on par with the US, but with way less quality. Therefore, we haven’t been eating out or doing a whole lot. But, in San Pedro de Atacama, there’s no way to sit still. Natural beauty surrounds you and going on a tour is unavoidable.
Despite the clouds, our tour of Valle de la Luna (The Atacama Desert) was incredible. This whole region is rich in salt and the combination of high air pressure plus low humidity makes perfect salt crystals. Our first stop in the tour was through a long expansive canyon made entirely of salt.
And yes, I broke off a piece, wiped off the dirt, and licked it. I just had to.
Delicious salt crystals.
It was raining as we headed down the small sand dune into the canyon. The rain somehow added to the stark landscape, making it feel almost ominous. The rain subsided and we climbed to the top of a giant sand dune for a view of the whole valley. Jagged rocks stuck out from the smooth forms of sand dunes.
As I was walking up the dune, some of my fellow tourists were pointing and laughing. Sure it’s not me they are laughing at, I thought. But it was. Turns out, there are inordinate amounts of iron in the sand, and the overabundance of static electricity was causing my hair to stick straight up. I looked like I had stuck my finger in a light-socket! Pierre, our tour guide, told me it was the worst he’s ever seen it.
Our next stop was to climb a tall rock wall to get a view of the natural rock formation called ‘the amphitheater’.
From up on the high rock, the strong blowing wind was much more noticeable. Besides making me look silly, the excess of static electricity in the air created a weird, whirling, buzzing sound when we lifted our arms above our heads. I’ve never heard anything quite like it. In fact, you could hear the noise if you held your hands exactly 4 or so inches from your face, no more no less. Jenny says that’s where your aura stops. I don’t know, but it was pretty weird either way.
Jenny’s Spanish has really been coming along, and I am quite proud of her. She’s in that phase where she can speak in full sentences, but makes funny mistakes when words sound similar. For instance, there was this nice group of Chileans on our tour and they were asking Jenny all kinds of questions about our trip and what she thought of Chile thus far. I wasn’t piping in, at this point, because I wanted her to practice. I did feel compelled, however, to give her a look when she said “well…I think Chile is really…dirty”. What she meant to say was ‘seco’ (dry) but instead she said ‘sucio’ (dirty). There was a moment of awkward silence, and then I shot Jenny a look. Stupefied by the gringa that just unknowingly insulted their country, they goodheartedly roared with laughter and agreed with her, that yes, in fact, Chile is a little bit dirty.
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About me
After two and a half years of staying put, the travel bug has reared its head once again. This blog is all about me scratching that travel itch and seeing what the world has in store for this restless 25-year old.
