ColibriVentura Advanced Backpacking on the Moreno Glacier
(report by Olaf Wündrich)
After spending three weeks with three oh-so lovely women, I decided I needed a challenge and went to El Calafate, Argentina. This is a well known tourist place about 700 km south of COYHAIQUE, Chile. The trip took me just a day. In the beginning I was not even sure if I ever could let loose of the lovely biologists. At least three times both they and I had made unsuccessful attempts to leave El Verdin. Finally, Graham grabbed me on a nice Saturday morning and made sure that I got onto the bus and out of Coyhaique. The ride to El Calafate was long and not scenic at all. Due to the season I had to choose the option of going via Comodore Rivadavia and Rio Gallegos. Everybody who has been there will know this is not very pleasant. For those who not have experienced the miles of endless pampas, each new pampa becomes a reoccurring nightmare of dreariness agitated by the incessant vibrations of the bus traveling the sometimes unpaved, rocky road. Finally I arrived in Calafate and took quarters in a nice and almost empty hostel 100m off the bus station. Together with a Canadian, Linda, we explored the many tourist shops and cafes of Calafate.
A day or so later, I finally met up with two guys from Seattle, Silas and Bill, with whom I had planned to do some exploration and climbing on or around the Campo de Hielo Sur. Silas, a 51 year old super-fit athlete and ultra-motivated climber, is a Patagonia maniac: he was making his eighth expedition to this part of the world. With him was Bill, a confident skier yet deluded with dreams of skiing Patagonian powder on uncharted summits and icefields. Together we had decided to do a bit of climbing up the Glaciar Perito Moreno drainage. I had been in contact with Silas much earlier - I know him from a trip to Seattle in 1997 - and had been planning on this trip for several months. Because Silas was the Patagonia maniac and had visited Calafate before, there was no question about getting our Park permit and securing a boat to cross the Lago Argentino Brazo Sur. Silas just did it the American way - he was direct - and just a day later we left to see the glacier. It is not a big mama glacier, but the people who go there are impressed, when the calving front appears the first time ahead. So was Bill. I had been here on a previous visit and knew more or less what to expect. We loaded our mighty 4m boat full of bulky gear and cast off. I , as the loudly self-announced and world certified boat handler, had problems starting the 25hp engine. Silas sat passively as I unsuccessfully tried to start the boat, horrified that the boat would capsize, dumping us all into the glacier-chilled water. Once the engine was finally idling, Bill, standing up in the boat because there was no room for him to sit down, informed me of that the gear lever was located by Silas. Silas groaned. What a nice boathandler I am...but at least Silas never spoke bad about me behind my back.
The next days we spent bringing our provisions up the glacier, Silas always storming ahead. It was as if he wanted to prove that he is not yet too old for those kinds of things. Soon, we developed a special jargon for ourselves: Silas was Vati (which he seemed to enjoy) and he called us Hans and Franz, we are here to pump you up. This was derived from some sort of pre-war TV show.
The ice of the Moreno was quite hard, and it was no surprise that some of our crampons failed and broke. First Silas's crampon posts failed, then Bill lost the one screw to his crampon that he had boasted he could not loose. We also were quite unorganized ,and as a result I had to go down to the depot near the boat again to get a rope we forgot. It seemed there was no real team spirit in the group, we were too much individualists. I loved to get up late whilst Vati, even in the worst weather, wanted to get up at six or seven in the morning. After several days of stocking our camp and waiting for better weather it snowed quite a lot. When the weather cleared, we decided to put some more gear to our depot in the middle of the Glacier. When walking unroped over the snow covered glacier, Silas asked me to lead. I just told him I would lead if we roped up, but that I would be confident walking last or second without rope. Silas didn't bother, nor did Bill, and so the plodded on in front. So putting into account all my observations from the past few days we spent together and the situations we would have to expect higher up on the mountain sides, I decided to drop out. Fortunately, I had learned a great deal from Vati, who had shown me his basic instructions for advanced backpacking before. So I just argued to go back and retrieve the gear from the depot, which was anyway a good decision. Poor Bill was my only worry. He is a sound guy and wanted to go on, try again. I knew that my decision would destroy his plans to ski off the top of one of those gorgeous mountains.
Together we packed up our gear, went back to the boat, and boated over to the other side of the Brazo Sur. Silas left us with the first possible lift we could arrange. He took the tent with him and left us to fend for ourselves in the cold outer reaches of Argentina where only five or less cars visited per day. Fortunately, Bill searched around and found some accommodating neighbors. And so we spent a great night in the hospitality of Federico and Hector's place, winter keepers of the closed, but nearby world class hotel Los Notros. It is as if a new spirit has come to this trip, and I was more happy than the days before. We could be like Hans and Franz without our mighty Vati. The very next morning, Federico gave us a lift to Calafate, where I tried to avoid living in the uncool atmosphere of hosteria Alexandra. Instead, I visited the father of all mountaineers in Calafate, Jorge. His hostel, La Cueva, is the place where I wanted to be. He is an enigmatic person, and his house is like a refuge for mountaineers. There I spent some really nice hours. I told Silas, who was busy preparing yet another leg of ''our'' expedition, that I would go to El Chalten alone. He and Bill could still manage to climb some more mountains without me, but I wanted to have freedom for my well being.
The next morning, a cold day in mid June, I caught a bus to El Chalten. Shortly thereafter, before the bus had reached Las Leonas, it began to snow. It did not stop for the next day. This was absolutely nice, I thought, now I could use my snowtrekker skies at least once. My base in El Chalten was (and will always be, thanks Ruben!) the youth hostel Albergue Patagonia - just a great place. I made sure I got the permit for camping on the private ground in the Rio Electrico valley, and also told my intentions to the local rangers, and off I was. The snow was quite deep, it took me ages to pull the kids sledge (which was given to me by Bill- thank you!!!) on the road to Lago Desierto. There were even two tracks, but the width of the tracks were too small to let the sled glide in a proper way. Finally, I made about 15 km or so and put my small delaminated GARUDA Atman tent into the safety of a hillside near the road. That night, it was less than - 20 degrees Celsius. The next morning I had problems getting my gasolina blanca ignited in the stove. Undeterred, I continued alongside the Rio Electrico. After a couple of stream crossings I decided to change my system of travel from sled to rucksack. Now, it was quite fast, I was walking without skis. The challenge was, however, finding the path in half meter of newly fallen snow. It takes a certain kind of intuition I guess, but when one concentrates, there is no problem. I even found fresh puma tracks again. After a hard walk I reached the Los Troncos camp (be aware that the expensive map you can buy is wrong here- but as Bill put it: The map is not that bad; much better than no map) This is private ground, and I pitched the tent beside one of the bivy sites. The next day I walked a bit further up the valley, just to explore the big stones around Lago Electrico. The walking was unstable and there was a high risk of breaking bones there, so I finally went back. Throughout all the three nights it had been very cold, and my tent again began to collect huge amounts of condensation. I moved back to Chalten the following morning. My trail was trampled over by myriad of cows which seemed to be in the low forests around camp. In the summer this must be a nice walk, but right now it was just taking away my power because of the snow. When I reached the road again, I switched to ski and sledge. Now, the road was free and I could make good use of the skis. In about 45 minutes I skied about 5 km, it was fabulous. A Gaucho gave me a lift for the remaining 10km or so to town, and this evening I could enjoy my first hot shower for the week.
When I arrived in Chalten, there I saw Bill! He had come from Calafate. Vati has been unable to put another trip together and had flown home. Bill and I went on a nice overnight trip near Chalten. We climbed up a 1500m or so mountain, and Bill even skied down, expert as he is. I just took the skis into my hand and walked all the way down. It was Bill who talked me into skiing downhill, and after several attempts which ended as falls in the snow, I was more or less able to glide downhill, carefully! Bills and my bindings had no quick releases, but here is the difference: He is a confident downhill skier, and I was only a beginner. When I broke through the surface of the hard crust of snow, I would just fall with my skis on. This was kind of dangerous, I thought, but at least I had some fun. We took some great shots of the Fitz Roy and surrounding spires. What nature! What a time!
Leaving Bill alone in Chalten, I went to Calafate again. From there, I took a 70 hours bus ride all the way to Santiago without rest. When I arrived I took a taxi to Scott's place, I just was VERY tired. The next days I found that British Airways was unable to change my flight ticket to a date before the 18th of July. I was very disappointed and decided to do something useful for the time remaining- three weeks. So I took on a practicum and worked three weeks in the North of Chile. I went diving, searched for fossils, and had a great time figuring out Spanish language. My hosts were really hospitable, just as were the rest of the Chileans. After half a year my stay in this amazing country was going to end, and I bitterly regretted this fact. Where in the world would I have stayed longer? In Chile!!! I want to thank all the people, friends and family, who made this stay possible. It was a semester of learning, of getting to know nature, people, customs, and myself far better than I could have in 10 years here in Germany. It was worth every effort I put forth; it was even worth giving up the safe life in Germany.
Life is an adventure, the moments of bliss are to be found and put on hold. Just go for it! If you want, your life could be almost perfect.
