Advertisement
Published: January 1st 2006
Some things can never be forgiven. Never. When it comes to the issue of the many deaths that occured during the Malvenas conflagration, whilst I have no historical knowledge to draw on I am quite prepared to persuade myself that the wonderfully moral and righteous British Democracy is at least as culpable as the murderous dictatorship that ruled Argentina at the time. Johnny Foreigner invading our turf can, after time, be passed over, at least by those who didn´t suffer directly or indirectly at the time. However, Maradona´s outrageous cheating that led to England´s exit from the 1986 World Cup and to that same Maradona eventually lifting the trophy and placing it triumphally to his undeserving lips must live forever in infamy. Don´t tell me that England players have cheated in many ways over the years. That is clearly not relevent or important. What is relevent is that on entering Argentina I find it hard not to stare hard at every male who passes me and think - "You buggers". No doubt on finding I´m English they think the same of me.
Maradona wasn´t around when V.S. Naipaul wrote his scathing account of the profoundly useless Argentinian male back in
the 1970´s, but, in musing how a tiny country such as New Zealand could add massively more to humankind´s knowledge and progress than a populous and rich country like Argentina, he correctly predicted the rise and fall of this national icon, a kind of latin Paul Gascoine with more realistic breasts. The only thing he got wrong was that Maradona did actually do what he set out to do - he brought home the bacon, and I guess for that alone he deserves respect and another overcooked steak with a fried egg on top. Being an English football fan in Argentina can play havoc with one´s self-image.
Thankfully, in the large and disputed area in Southern Patagonia known as Park Nacional des Los Glaciares, some kind of catharsis has occured. No longer do I shut my eyes to see Maradonna´s hand raised above Shilton´s outstretched fist, because now I have seen an area of breathtaking beauty crafted by a far more impressive and inspirational deity. Rising out of the endless miles of desert-like pampas are numerous sheer granite towers, with steep glaciers plunging from their shoulders carving out deep valleys and propelling huge house-sized boulders to sit like lonely
Sunset, Los Antiguos
The Virgin Mary points the way to Cerro Castillo.stone sentinels guarding the entranceway to the heights beyond.
This is the second largest park in Argentia, a country that itself is nearly the size of India (although only a third of the size of nearby Brazil), and yet 40% is covered by ice sheets from which thirteen glaciers descend into two great lakes - part of the massive Southern Patagonian ice-field running for more than 200 miles past Torres del Paine in the South, the largest continuous ice sheet outside the poles. This spectacular anomoly is formed purely by the amount of precipitation at the top of the Andes, as moist westerlies blow in from the pacific causing more than 20m of snow to fall each year crushing and compacting the existing ice beneath.
To the North is the area known as Fitzroy, named after the Captain of the Beagle, home to Mount Fitzroy (3,375m), a spectacular rock pillar eclipsed only by its near relative, the towering spire of Cerro Torre (3,102m), just round the back. To the South is Lago Argentino, host to the spectacular Ventisquero Perito Moreno, which until recently was one of the few glaciers in the world that was advancing. Unlike the Chilean
Lake District, Chiloe and the Carrera Austral, both areas are plumped firmly on the tourist map, which is a good job as there is precious little else in this remote and desolate area.
We had been told countless times how wonderful Argentina was for travellers, being described as a European-style country with third-world prices. Only a few years ago the country was one of the most expensive in the world but after the economic crash of 2001 it became one of the cheaper. It is good to see that Argentina, along with Brazil, have struck a deal with the IMF and World Bank for a one-off payment to cancel their debt. It seems as if this may give Argentina a chance to start improving economically, along the lines claimed by Chile. However a German Lawyer who gave me a lift and was an old Argentina hand seemed to share Naipaul´s few that sooner rather than later a government, crooked or daft or both, will come along and stuff it all up again. Let us hope not.
However, even as the earth itself is squeezed between the oncoming Nazca plate and the continental South American plate, the narrow funnel
Cerro Castillo, Chile
From Los Antiguos, Argentina. of available land squeezes the relentlessly oncoming tourists into a smaller and smaller area, and following the laws of supply and demand, the prices are uplifted higher, sometimes as high as the lofty mountains themselves. We found our wallets twisted, folded and metamorphosised in a price orogony of extinction level proportions, for our available cash at least. We knew Patagonia would not be cheap, but a times the prices took our breaths away.
Still, all was not bad. I would love to come back to this area with a bit more money in my pocket and stay a lot longer and explore a lot more. And the Argentinian´s are at least honest enough to recognise themselves what the world thinks about them - lazy, corrupt and egotistical were amongst many unpleasant adjectives the Argentinian people used to describe themselves in a recent survey. I think, judging from Patagonia at least, they are being a bit hard on themselves. Still, I´ve picked up a "wife-beater" T-shirt and grown my hair long and curly - just a few more steaks and the transformation will be complete.
We didn´t expect much of the small border town of Los Antiguos on the
shore of Lago Buenos Aries (Lago General Carrera in neighbouring Chile) but on arriving we were surprised to see smart Germanic-style buildings made of bricks, not wood. Our accomodation was adequate and pleasant, and we went out to sample the local fare. In the nearby restaurant we found you can have anything you want, as long as it is on top of a steak. I tried the traditional steak and eggs and felt heartily sick afterwards at the sheer richness of the food I had just eaten. This proved to be a general hazard in Argentina - menus are limited and so is the supply of fresh vegetables in Patagonia so it becomes hard not to order another steak, praying it won´t be tough and overcooked, but chances are it will be.
The locals made up for it though, as Boca Juniors won the last game of the season and hence the championships, and the streets erupted as a cavalcade of beaten up old cards took to the local cruising circuit, horns beeping and bare chested youths hanging out of every window waving Boca shirts and scarfs. Marvellous.
We took a day of deserved rest after our fairly
punishing trip around the Carrera Austral, and this gave Steve and Kim time to shake their persistent colds whilst we took the chance to book onward travel and hostels. Generally Kim and I haven´t bothered booking anywhere in advance on our trip, preferring to turn up and nosy around, but given this is a remote place with limited accomodation options, particularly at the budget end, and it is approaching Christmas, we´ve been doing just that. Without Spanish that can be quite difficult, as many places just don´t seem bothered about responding to emails. We asked our helpful landlady to call for us, and as an agent for Chalten Travel, who act as if they are run by the Corleone family of Patagonia, we were booked in Alberque Rancho Grande in Chalten for four nights. Smashing.
The problem came when our landlady said they want the whole payment for all four of you up front. This amounted to more than a hundred quid and we just weren´t prepared to hand over that amount of cash in return for a handwritten piece of paper that might be honoured or might not be honoured several hundred dry and dusty kilometres away. After
our experiences of Patagonian organisation to date that was just too much of a risk. So we asked please could we change the booking for just one night. Chalten Travel offered the mature and adult response of "No". If you want to change the booking now you can´t stay here. Now I might understand if this was a small place with few rooms and they were going to be full, but the Rancho Grande is a massive building full of dorms that probably never fills completely. They were just being miserable prats. Our landlady offered to ring in a few hours and make the booking under a false name but we declined - even though Chalten Travel have something of a stranglehold over this part of Patagonia we were going to give them as little of our money as possible.
I went to the local phone place and talked to the helpful proprieter. He rang just about every place in Chalten for us that we could remotely afford and nearly all were full. Eventually we found somewhere, for the first night at least, and were happy.
Sadly Chalten Travel offer the only bus service between Los Antiguos and
El Chalten, so we just had to go with them, fourteen hours south, mostly on dirt road. The bus was comfortable though and the drivers were good guys, who offered us sweets and cherries throughout the journey. Many had described the Pampas scenery as dull and boring, but Kim and I quite liked it. There is that haunting desert feel, with low plateaux terminated by sharp rocky slopes, the occasional armadillo scurrying across the road, the occasional glacial erratic and even more occasional collection of buildings, and all the while the majestic ice-bound Andes shimmering low on the distant horizon.
Somewhere really in the middle of nowhere the drivers stopped to pick up two French hitch-hikers, who had been doggedly tailing us since the Chilean border. Even the guidebooks recommend you don´t try to hitch in this area but this scruffy, dusty, dirty and downbeat Che and Alberto from Brittany were persevering nonetheless. It must have taken them a day at least to make the little progress they had made, and now these generous drivers were offering a helping hand all the way to Chalten. The hitchers couldn´t believe their luck and I doubt any of the paying passengers
Sunset above El Chalten ...
... looking back towards the Pampas begrugged the intrustion. I don´t think this gallic Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty realised it but they had inadvertently become my heroes.
We rolled into El Chalten close to midnight. It has been described as a windy, dusty, soulless purpose-built tourist town but I quite liked it. It had the feel of a real desert/mountain resort and you really couldn´t argue with the views. We stayed four days, eventually decamping to the expensive but well-run La Base hostel. After settling in to our accomodation we nipped round to the iniviting and affordable wine bar next door to share a bottle before bed. Bizzarely, the friendly owner had the face and manner of what one might think of a typical English Bobby, and we had to struggle hard to remember he was Argentinian
Our first afternoon we went for a rainy walk in the woods, which proved to be really very pleasant, natural open forest with plenty of clearings through which to see the mountains, although the mountains were invisible just then. I spent some time idling by a few picturesque lakes and then decided to head off the trails directly through the woods on a straight route back
home. This was great fun and as I crossed into the valley containing Cerro Torre from that containing Mt Fitzroy, I saw the clouds were beginning to clear. I found a suitable knoll and sat and watched in wonder as Cerro Torre was revealed to me for the first time. I didn´t get back until after sunset, which meant it was past 10.00pm. Thankfully Argentina operates on Spanish time, so that was a civilised hour to go for dinner, and we ate atypically good food - Lamb Casserole baked in a whole pumpkin at the excellent if slightly pricey Estappa.
For the next two days we rented a tent and walked up to camp near the lake at the foot of Cerro Torre. This was a beautiful location, marred only by the fact that two British campers had had their gear stolen whilst taking one of the many side-trips. The prime suspect was a local Argentinian gaucho we had seen earlier with a rucksack of the same description strapped to one of his horses. When I tackled a Ranger about this he claimed it has never happened before in this park, but the Argentinian punter he was guiding said
"Oh no, not here as well". Somewhat telling.
Our enjoyment was not spoiled however, and we were all up at dawn, (well an hour before as it happens) to watch a rising sun bathe a cloud-free Cerro Torre in its warm dusky red light. Later in the day we hauled our packs back across to the next valley, in order to get clear views of Fitzroy for the first time. Both mountains are spectacular but if you want to see them both at dawn you need two nights camping, which would make a good little trip. "Highly recommended", as the guidebooks like to say.
El Calafate, a few hours further south, is a different affair entirely. Perched on the edge of Lago Argentino it is far enough from the mountains as to have an unspectacular location, and the level of the lake itself was such that the shoreline was now some distance from the town.In El Chalten you can imagine top international climbers striding down the dusty main-street at noon, dressed in ponchos and chewing cheroots, ready to draw on anyone who takes the opposite view on who really made the first ascent of Cerro Torre. In El
Chalten you might well encounter a modern day Scott, Amundsen and Shackleton, frostbitten and sunburnt having pulled their sledges for hundreds of miles across the Patagonian ice field, which they will now sell to the local gear shop to fund a nice glass of Malbec to celebrate. El Calafate has none of this - El Calafate is a tourist town of the worst kind. Here there is no higher purpose - they just want your money, pure and simple.
The device used to extract your cash is the magnificent Perito Moreno Glacier, pretty much the sole reason anyone comes here, although there are other things to do and see. The price of simply getting a bus to the park return, a matter of some 70km or so, is outrageous - enough to get you across most of Argentina at normal prices. The cheapest way to travel to the park is to rent a car between four of you, but cars get booked up quickly. Kim, Margaret and Steve decided they wanted to walk on the glacier, as neither Kim nor Margaret have ever done so. This left me on my own as the tour company weren´t prepared to give
up a seat to take me without me paying the full wack, so I decided to hitch - which didn´t prove too difficult once I had dutifully walked out of town to lose the local traffic circulating the main street.
My hosts were an entertaining German couple from Frankfurt who were going to take the cheaper of the two boat cruises to the glacier which happened to be the one I wanted to take, so that worked wonderfully. The boat trips allow you to get quite close to the glacier, although not too close as it is between 60m to 80m high and blocks as big as large houses regularly tumble off, to great noise and great appreciation from the onlooking punters. After a satisfying cruise the jolly Germans took me to the boardwalks at the snout of the glacier, where they then left to catch a flight. The boardwalks were packed full of people sitting eating their butties waiting for the next big one, so I climbed a few fences, passed a few no-entry signs and mosied on down to the lake shore, a safe distance from the flying ice. Here I spent a happy three hours entirely
on my own exploring the fascinating rocks on the shore of the lake, which seemed to have been subjected to just about every geological process possible. Eventually a tour group arrived and inconsiderately wandered right into my shot, even though I had my tripod up and it was very clear what I was doing. What was going on in their heads I have no idea - very little I suspect - but I wasn´t particularly bothered and waited for ten minutes whilst they pratted about and then left. Again I was on my own.
All in all I spent about five hours wandering around near the glacier, so when I came back up to boardwalks at about six pm most people had gone. I spent a rather worrying forty minutes trying to hitch a lift from the few cars that were left but nearly all were full, when a young Argentinian couple I had seen walking earlier in the day returned and picked me up. Sadly we had no language in common so I just sat in the back and listened to their music, glad to be safely on the way home.
Just one more item of note.
Cerro Torre again
I know its sad but I´ve got about a hundred shots of it, so you´re going to have to look at a few more of them. Internet access in Los Antiguos and El Calafate is so slow as to be unusable. For some reason Chalten Travel has a fast line in El Chalten but for us it was prohibitively expensive. The next decent internet we found was in the pleasant town of Puerto Natales back in Chile, but that is the subject of the next blog.
Oh, and Malbec isn´t always as bad as I thought.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.682s; Tpl: 0.021s; cc: 34; qc: 153; dbt: 0.5076s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.9mb
Gerry Aitken
non-member comment
Beautiful photos!