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Published: August 1st 2011
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El Calafate does not have much to offer beyond the glaicer, so after an enjoyable second night at the hostel we head for the town of El Chalten which lies at the other end of the Glaciers National Park - a 4 hour bus ride away. We´re relieved to pull out of El Calafate - the armed policeman on duty was severley cross-eyed and we would have had to hit the deck pretty quick if there was any cause for him to have drawn his weapon. Iv´s tickled by the safety card in his bus seat which tells us in English that we ¨can count with the help of your bus conductor¨....... very helpful, Iv has always been rubbish at maths.
El Chalten is nestled in the Fitz Roy range of Andean mountains. It appears to be a bit of a frontier town - the streets are deserted save for the packs of dogs, and many of the houses seem only half built. We later learn that El Chalten is Argentina´s newest town, only coming into existance in 1985. It´s the trekking capital of Argentina and, when the weather is fine, offers wonderful trekking among truly immense views. The skyline
around us looks like the heartrate monitor of someone who is being electrocuted - the fang-like peaks of Cerro FitzRoy (3405m) and Cerro Torre jutting up high into the clouds, enticing expert climbers from across the globe. The know this because we´ve seen the postcards - thick clouds today prevent us from seeing anything above a few hunder metres. It is mid-winter after all.
We learn from our visit to the ranger´s office that only three of the trails are open at the moment, and that even they may become impassable in places. We also learn that the land is home to the endangered Huemel, a very shy deer deer that is rarely spotted (not even seen by the ranger herself), and the equally hard to find Puma. The rangers entreat us to report any sightings to them, to inform their research programmes. So, Mission 1: Trek the three trails; Mission 2: Find deer and pumas!
We´re staying in the only open hostel in town. The staff don´t speak English, but are friendly. The same goes for their huge mountain dog, Lorenzo, who we quickly befriend. It´s mid-afternoon, so we reckon we´ve got time for a short walk
before it gets dark. We dump our stuff and set off on a trail which leads directly from the hostel´s door. We´re told it will take us to a waterfall. The trail has a river to its right and wooded hilltops to its left. Kate´s on skywatch (for Condors in particular) and Iv´s on pumawatch. The landscape reminds us of Snowdonia in parts - rugged and craggy - and it´s very windy. We reach the waterfall within an hour, and decide quickly that there will not be any wild swimming done here. It´s cold and threatening rain, so we head back knowing that a good rest is needed before we attempt to tackle both the longer treks tomorrow. We now only have a day and a half in El Chalten, instead of the original three we´d planned because of the bus debacle. Lorenzo welcomes us back to the hostel and looks dopily at us as we try the foreign commands of ´sit´, ´lie down´, and ´fetch´. We enjoy a warming cup of tea and catch up with folk staying here who we first met back in Puerto Madryn. Kate cooks up a storming pasta and we have an early night.
Our second day and second trek begins as soon as it is light enough - about 9.15am. We´re kitted up in our thermals, gloves and hats, and our walking boots which remind us of friends and family back home, are ready for more challenging terrain. The first couple of hundered metres are lung-expanding - a good, steep climb to get the heart going. We´ve been told that the trek will take approx 2 hours each way. Kate has a cold and is concerned that she won´t make it if the whole trek is as steep. Before long, we hear the satisfying crunch of snow being compacted under our feet. The trees stand strong against the whistling wind, their exposed roots twisting across our trail like a central nervous system circling the backbone of the mountain. The incline mellows slightly as we continue our ascent, and before long we reach a partial table top which offers spectacular views of the valley. We catch our breath but don´t stay long - we´re being buffeted around so head back to the shelter of the trees. The covering of snow becomes deeper as we progress, and the route less obvious. It´s snowing now and it´s becoming increasingly difficult to make out the trail ahead of us or see our own footsteps behind us. We know that we have to turn back, but are pleased to make it as far as Laguna Capri - one of the milestones of the walk. It´s completely iced over and covered in a thick blanket of snow. Walking around it´s edge for a while, we can see the blue face of a glacier suspended in distant mountains. But we don´t get a decent view of Torre Fitzroy. We know that it´s above us somewhere but remains shrouded in the clouds.
We take a quick break for sandwiches and to re-hydrate at the hostel before heading off on our last trek. Our bus back to El Calafate leaves at 6pm, so we need to be back in time for that. The trek heads out of town in a different direction to the others, and seems hard work to begin with. The morning´s adventures are taking their toll. But we get a rhythm going. The trail winds up through the hills, crossing the odd stream and involves scrambling over icy and wet rocks now and again. A river runs next to us, through a deep gorge to our left. Our aim is to reach a viewpoint of Cerro Torre. We pass a ranger walking in the opposite direction, who confirms that the route ahead is passable, so we plod on. We almost miss the viewpoint, but others who are already there confirm that we´re at the right spot. We stop there to rest, and have some water and chocolate but don´t enjoy great views - heavy cloud has scuppered our efforts again.
We´re tired as a make the final trek back into town. We find an alternative path down, and need to take care with our footing as it is muddy and slippery. It is in doing so that Iv spots a paw print in the mud. A paw that has five pads - such as that of a cat. A very large cat. We adopt the hushed Attenborough tones of the seasoned wildlife tracker. The prints come and go, and its strange that they often return to the marked trail - we assume they´re following the scent of humans, or at least the food in their daypacks. Kate recounts the tale of a cougar which attacked and killed a woman in the Rockies, where she spent a season snowboarding, so Iv arms himself with a big stick. We tread carefully and in silence, follow the prints. Kate films them, so we can show the footage to the rangers.
We continue in this way for a mile or so, but are beginning to doubt that pumas would venture this close to town, which is almost within view. But Kate then spots a new imprint heading off the track. We hunch down and strain our eyes. The landscape here does not have the snow of the higher mountaints, offering instead the faded greens and browns of the shrubland. Our lenses are on full zoom. We´re now communicating in slow hand signals. Unbelievably we think we see a head move, about 50 metres ahead. This is confirmed when the penetrating stare of a dark, deep set of eyes locks on to us. Our hearts stop. Then the tail! We see a tail swish! WE´VE SEEN A PUMA AND WE´VE GOT IT ON FILM!!
Then the dog barks at us.............gutted!
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