Plastic fantastic, Belinda Carlisle, and the return of the Wayanns Brothers

Location, location, location. Fortune surely smiles of the citizens of El Calafate. Strategically located between three pristine tourist attractions, the majestic El Chalten, Torres del Paine parque nacional, and it´s own Perito Mereno, it is a major Patagonian pit stop on the gringo trail. Unfortunately, this all comes at a cost, the plastic boardwalk is surrounded by fancy restaurants, tacky and over priced souvenirs, over zealous hotelier's greeting every bus arrival, more good old fashioned southern cone price fixing, and enough gringo´s to make you vomit in your cafe prepared Cesar salad. Stay one night, see the glacier, and hit the road.

One of the few remaining advancing glaciers in this carbon addicted world, the three hour visit of ¨just¨ a simple old glaciers is sublime. The setting is both beuatiful and peaceful in los glaciers parué nacional. The sounds of the glacier cracking under the enourmous pressure of the 60km glacier and the anticipation of witnessing the crumbling and disintegration of the edge provide for a magnificent afternoon.

Perhaps the 80´s pop star playing loudly in my sister´s room was
right.... Heaven truly is a place on earth, it´s the humble country village of El Chaltén, only slightly tainted by the trail of the gringo´s. A haven for trekkers and climbers alike, the scenery is magnificent, dotted with ample glaciers, lagoons, mountains, valleys, rivers, and waterfalls. By far not a winter desination, the populations plummets by half to 800 with the threat of six hour days and endless wind, snow, and rain. The imminent paving of the road to El Calafate threatens to reduce this town into a heartless, money hungry town, reminiscent of El Calafate.

With the sun shining and the wind at a minimum, the twenty hour days were enjoyed a minute at a time. Starting with a six hour hike, our travels provided unparalleled beauty with only a trickle of tourists. A gruelling twelve hour day of hiking, ice trekking on the glacier, and climbing ice walls rewarded a unique experience and ample views. A little sympathy, home cooked pasta, and another quality bargain basement Argentinian vino went along way to recuperating those sore and tired old joints.



Finally, our trip to Rio Gallegos was greeted by the return of a Wayanns brothers on the fantastic Tasqa bus.

Glacier heaven, the mother of all assumptions, and a vampires worst nightmare

Certainly by Andian standards, the ten hour trip to Puerto Monnt was deluxe to say the least. Semi reclining seats, blankets, heating.... we almost had it all, but for a lack of a vintage van damme movie. Arriving at the small harbour city with a thriving salmon industry and the gateway to pictureque Chiloé islands one would think it´ll all be fairies and apples. However, with our wallets trembling against a resurgent Chilean economy we ate simple and small and caught the next place to Bariloche.

Now, assumption being the mother, I´d assumed that Balmaceda was simply the airpot name for Bariloche, ala Schipol or Heathrow..... How wrong one can be. Hmmm....I think I took a wrong turn at albuquerque. Anyway, picturesque as it was, Coyhaique (Blamaceda) was not Barilcohe, an hour South instead of east landed us in a backwater, and offseason at that. Flustered, cold, and in distinct need of a beer, we regrouped at a local hospedaje before booking the next flight to Punta Arenas relinquishing the fading plans that were Bariloche.

Well below Australia and South Africa, and a smidge south of New Zealand, Chile and Argentina host the beuatiful and often inhospitable land and waters of tierra del fuego and Patagonia. Vibrant fishing, petroleum, and tourism industries are the mainstays in the midst of never ending summer days and endless winter nights. Rising at 04:00 and setting at 20:30, only a devoted clubber or night worker would ever see the sun. The tempreature hovers between 10 and twenty during summer with a howling wind, contant threat of rain, hail, and even snow. On that information alone, you´d wonder why hundreds of thousands visit each summer. Well, we will start with penguins, antartica, hundred´s of thousands of untouched beuaty, 60km wide glaciers, ski, fishing, and trust me, loads and loads of hiking.

Only the third most southern city in the world, Punta Arenas lacks that killer attraction of it´s surroundings but more than survives as the major port and tourist hub for the region. Featuring a stunning colonial heart but surrounded by dull city of 100,000, the signs of affluence are appearing.

Now, these ain´t my finest hours of travel planning, but anyway, we hit the road to Puerto Natales the next day for storied Tierra del Paine parque nacional. Oh... and we did enjoy a nice but expensive dinner with stunning chilean wine, krill, lama paté, a bit of cervicher, and the pun inducing beaver ... mmmmmm

I do miss the nicities and humour of the good Andiian folk.

Housing a whole lot of tin sheds with a few nice brick buildings, Puerto Natales was not much more than supper, planning our hikes, and squelching on a few promises of business to a hostales and a tourist operator.

Never forgetting a promise, I take Beth up on three nights camping in Tierra del Paine parque nacional; Apparently the seven prior nights without electricity in the jungle and the andies were not enough. Like everything Chilean, the parque was expensive and the advice given by Path@gone was anything but handy.... Neverthless, over three days, we camped, cooked our own food, and hiked the W over sixty kilometres up two mountains, viewing several glaciers, many lakes, and some of the most stunning scenary I have ever seen. It was fantastic, but oh my god, it was tough. Day two alone involved hiking 27 kilometres in 9 hours.... After our recent travels, the timing was perfect for nature and your own thoughts.... Although I kept disturbingly getting late 80´s and early 90´s songs stuck in my head.

The Argentinin Peso, how I do love currencies pegged to the stumbing american dollar. Next stop, El Calafate.