Suitably fed, watered and slept, we jumped on the bus to El Calafate, famed for its rather large glacier, Perito Merino. However, we have seen plenty of glaciers now and Glacier Grey in TdP (Torres del Paine) was very similar, so we decided to head straight to El Chalten to visit Mount Fitz Roy and his friends (Cerre Torre, etc).
El Chalten is a funny little town. It was only founded in 1985 as a 'frontier town' in order to claim the land before Chile did. The town is set in a beautiful valley with Fitz Roy as a backdrop and surrounded by high flat faced mountains. All the houses look like they would keel over with the slightest whisper of wind as they are mainly constructed from tin cans. The odd German bar or European eatery to satisfy the tourists' need to feel at home, makes this place rather unique. The town's infancy has also meant that it is frugal in amenities and mainly caters for the high season tourists looking to do adventure sports. The main drag is littered with excursion operators and hostels.
After leaving some of our belongings with the hostel, we pressed on to the Mount Fitz Roy trek in the early afternoon. This was considerably easier than TdP as the route is well trodden and only a gentle incline at the beginning levels off into a long plateau of autumn vegetation and streams galore. We arrived at the campsite with a sweet little view of Fitz Roy towering over us, a perfect way to relax, and whip out the kindle with bit of Julius Caesar (mind enlightenment).
There are several options in this area, one is to trek to Lago de los Tres which, sits at the foot of Fitz Roy up a steep hill or, an alternative, less trodden route, which we chose, is to head north to Piedra Blanca. This was a good wake up walk that took us up right up to the foot of the glacier on the back side of Fitz Roy, after a stint of boulder hopping and scrambling through a rock landslide. Gordon got a nasty bout of the sniffles, the weather was closing in, getting colder and rainy, so upon the return to the campsite, we made the decision to retreat to El Chalten like a bunch of sissies and grab a warm bath, something that is certainly hard to come by in your average hostel. A more disturbing moment was upon returning to the hostel for our bags, we were greeted with a hanging piece of LARGE meat next to our bags. Suffice to say, this wasn't there when we dropped the bags off. Most would think it was a cow or something normal...this 'tasty treat' was actually a Puma, the endangered, illegal to hunt type of meat. The owner was happy to inform us that he hangs it to dry and then slices bits off for his sandwich. This explains, upon arrival on the first evening, of finding legs, trotters and God knows what else in the communal fridge, unwrapped and mingling with everyone else's food! Cultural differences. We couldn't dispel the thought of puma meat as we were tucking into our 'homemade' burgers that evening. Let's move on, Gordon's stomach is turning as we type.
Right, it was time to get out of Chalten as we had a date with an organic farm in two weeks time. We got the 12 hour bus to a little village called Los Antiguos on the Chile-Arg border. A night there, we arrived at the one-horse town of Chile Chico on the Chilean side the following day and picked up a dog and a German lady. We finally shook both of them off, also took one look at the potential campsite and decided to hoof it out of there. Luckily, we were in time to get a very scenic ferry crossing across Lago Buenos Aires to Puerto Ibanez with a nice Australian couple with whom we exchanged the usual travelling experiences and advice. A short bus ride past the jagged Cerro Castillo on the Caraterra Austral, we arrived in Coyhaique. (Note, we took this route as it is meant to be much more interesting than the barren Ruta 40 in Argentina). We spent three nights in a fantastic German-Spanish run hostel, where the owners kept the place open just for us and we were the only guests for the three evenings. Great food, rustic atmosphere and forest surroundings, it was the perfect place to unwind and let Susan get rid of her nasty cold (Gordon was well informed that he gave it to her, as Susan had no issues in reminding him of that fact!)
Bus links north were rather unreliable in their timetables, so for the same price, we got a local ferry through the islands from Puerto Chacabuco to Quellon on Chiloe Island. This was a nice way to travel as an alternative to a road, as it allowed us to see various ports (as the locals were picked up and dropped off at random islands) and fjords with some very pretty scenery from the deck. We were the objects of much curiosity as there were only 3 of us tourists on the ferry and the other passengers were all local yocals that see foreigners only every once in a while.
Chiloe Island beckoned and we made our way swiftly through the island, firstly stopping in Castro for an evening (third oldest settlement in Chile and famed for its multicoloured houses on stilts, 'Palifotos'), where we stayed in the spookiest hostel yet (rocking-deceased-granny-ghost while you sleep in the room kind of spooky) and met a very friendly chap from Santiago, who would like to host us when we get up there. It's always nice to meet a friendly, genuine local who wants to help and get to know you. Then we travelled up to Ancud, a small fishing village on the north of the island. Yet another helpful local, who turned out to work in a hostel in Puerto Varas (our next stop) invited us to his hostel. This town witnessed Susan's dominant hunt for calamari. Unfortunately, this was not meant to be.
Puerto Varas, a charming lakeside town, with Volcano Osorno as its dramatic facade, was our home for a few days. Here we enjoyed the relaxed ambience of the town and took a day trip out to the base of Volcano Osorno and lunched on the side of an emerald lake until the wasps had enough of our company and chased us from our cosy spot. Bastards.
So, this brought us back to Bariloche after 5 weeks of southern Patagonia. A pretty easy 6 hour journey, but add in a broken bus suspension and it that turned into a 10 hour journey (and Susan's missed skype date, sorry Catherine!) We didn't complain because 2 broken down buses in as many months is not bad for a country that is known for the odd breakdown. Luckily, we had been to Bariloche before and knew our way around, which is a nice change from map reading and praying for a decent hostel when you arrive in a town. Susan, for the past 5 weeks, has had her laptop on the back of her mind as we had left if in Bariloche. To her content, it was still there, alive and well. Phew!
There has been some sad news...
Gordon's fro and beard are not what they used to be. He is once again as clean cut as he gets (evidence to follow...)
A view of the 'frontier town', El Chalten
Struggling with a circular route :-)
Susan and Fitz Roy
No comment
Fitz Roy through the autumn vegetation
Reading time with a sweet view in the background
Piedra Blanca glacier
The weather that we couldn't be bothered to deal with. We cut short our three day trek to 1.5. Sissies.
One of the many bangers hanging around Chalten, which we would have loved to buy to make travel easier.
The random dog that latched on to us. He was persistent in shoving his mouth into our legs, hands, faces, or whatever for attention. Two hikers left him in Chile Chico and he just hangs around the campsite now. Friendly dog, just needs a home.
'Chicos' waving to Susan.
Rio Simpson in Coyhaique, just down the road from our hostel
One of the many ports on the 28hr ferry ride. Looking at these little villages, it makes you think what they survive on. One would think fishing, but it didn't seem like it.
A local abode in Castro, typical colourful, tin houses of the region
Look at the eyes on this fellow!
Castro's fishing fleet.
You know the comment, too many cooks spoil the broth, well, this chap was one of the cooks over a fishing boat engine.
Castro's Palifitos. This town, like Ancud, has been rebuilt after a 1960's earthquake.
There is a massive disrespect for towns' history and public art in Argentina and Chile. Graffiti and a underwear thrown over the head of one of Ancud's past contributors. It's a shame. Graffitti is abundant on public sentiment.
An example of the many packs of dogs down here. They come in all shapes and sizes through all the inbreeding.
Happy Easter!
Susan and Volcan Osorno
Fat pig lunchtime fun before the wasps kicked us out.
Gordon may have given up at 16, but he still has it.
Susan liberating herself.
Super Ocho (8). Gordon's lifeline.
Volcan Osorno from the miniscule village of Petrohue on the shores of Lago Todos los Santos
Puerto Varas' backdrop of Volcan Osorno
Gordon and Luis. You could barely see the tiles on the floor afterwards.