El Chalten, Argentina; Hiker’s paradise at the end of the world

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El Chalten is a charming village nestled among the mountainous heart of Patagonia. The log cabins, chilled air and icy peaks are more reminiscent of Central Europe rather than that of South America. It’s roughly four hundred miles to the tip of the continent and it feels every bit so. The winds are relentless and the sun hovers in the sky until almost ten at night, but the natural scenery is more alluring than most places on earth; wide rocky valleys bisected by fast moving rivers, steep verdant hills, waterfalls and snow covered peaks. It seems a lesser known version of New Zealand and in fact is the only other sizable piece of land located on the same latitude.

We arrived by flight into El Calafate, a small town of about six thousand people. Renting a car we drove two and a half hours to El Chalten. Ten miles out of Calafate and the highway became nearly deserted. Every turn in the road provided sights of sweeping vistas; from the aquiline waters of Lago Argentino to the pale white peaks of the distant Andes. Nearly fifty miles from our destination, Mount Fitz Roy became manifest, a shadowy crag of ice and snow. The last bend in the road dropped us into the heart of El Chalten. Warm lights were turning on to provide nocturnal hideaways from the blowing cold among the huddle of small rustic buildings. Fitz Roy, the Matterhorn’s Latin cousin now loomed larger than life always keeping watch over El Chalten.

Half the town seemed to be made of homes and hotels amid differing stages of construction. Tourism is relatively new to El Chalten, before the airport was built in El Calafate the only way in was a ten hour bus ride from Rio Gallegos on the coast. The dirt roads have since been paved at the behest of the current and former Presidential couple Cristina and Nestor Kirchner. They’ve spent a buddle of money developing the infrastructure of the province of Santa Cruz (their home state) to promote tourism and growth.

The weather this far south is notoriously unpredictable, but the sky remained clear as we passed through town and made our way onto a gravel road. A half hour of driving and we arrived at Hostaria El Pilar, located seventeen kilometers past El Chalten. The road wound along two rivers and continued on past the lodge. El Pilar is small and secluded, located at the crux of several trail heads.

We found the entrance to the lodge to be a warm reprieve from the chilled evening air; a dining room of wooden walls and tables adjoining a group of couches surrounding a freestanding wood burning stove. A friendly married couple, Christina and Guillermo managed the hotel that night. They checked us in, served our wine and steaks at dinner and gave us hiking suggestions for the following day. They work the “season” in El Chalten, that is five months of weather permitting hiking and other activities and then they find work elsewhere in the world during the seven months of winter.

The next day we made our way back to town to obtain hiking rentals (boots, waterproof jacket and pants, ect.) and to grab lunch. Bodegon El Chalten Cerveza Artesanal is long name for a small place (www.elchalten.com/cerveceria). A log cabin feel with an entire wall plastered by old Argentine newspapers provides local varieties of food and two types of unfiltered beer (a bock and pilsner) brewed onsite and only obtainable at this one location. The bock was dark and hearty while the pilsner had a sort of fruit finish. We ate Locro, a traditional Argentina stew of corn, beef and vegetables. After lunch and a drive back to the hotel, we set off on a two hour trek straight from the front door. The trail runs through a forest of trees endemic to both Patagonia and New Zealand and we stopped at several look out points to enjoy panoramic views of Fitz Roy and it’s adjoining glacier. The peak’s namesake comes from a British ship captain (Robert FitzRoy) who was responsible for charting much of the Patagonia coast and later sailed with Charles Darwin. After the hike, we indulged in more steak and Malbec then retired early, in preparation for an eleven hour hike the following day.

Cerro Torre

A portion of our party awoke late resulting in our driving at breakneck speeds down the rough gravel road. We arrived at seven AM to find our guide, Mathias and his partner Ricardo waiting for us at the entrance to Serac (where we had obtained hiking rentals and reserved our guide – www.serac.com.ar/ingles). Mathias, himself an expert hiker/climber made sure we had the proper provisions before setting off; water, lunch, waterproof clothes, sunglasses for the glacier and sunscreen. The hike started in front of Serac and continued through the town, then straight onto dirt paths among forested hills. The trail led along a narrow valley with a river snaking along the bottom that was fed by half a dozen waterfalls. The adjacent valley we moved into was half greenery and half dead gray trees. Mathias mentioned that a group of hikers had inadvertently started a fire a few years back.

Our first break, five miles into the hike afforded us views of our destination. In the distance loomed Cerro Torre, a massive trio of angular peaks rising above a range of snow covered mountains. The area is remarkably untouched. One hundred years earlier, the local indigenous tribes were swept away (killed or transplanted) during Argentina’s version of Manifest Destiny. President Roca’s order to spread “civilization” to the end of the continent is even depicted on the Argentine one hundred Peso note. As we moved on Mathias pointed out Puma scat on the trail, the elusive felines are rarely seen and usually depart quickly when humans are near.

Another three miles brought us to a base camp where we dropped some unnecessary items and were given crampons for Cerro Torre’s glacier. From there the hiking became a bit more difficult. We mounted a wall of moraine, that is the massive to small sized boulders left behind after a glacier retreats. The moraine heap hems in a lake with the glacier forming the far side and the triple peaks of Cerro Torre set off directly behind. Mathias pointed out the different areas where the glacier had retreated over time, one thousand years ago at one point, five hundred years at another. We walked along the apex of the moraine wall until we arrived at a point blocked by the mouth of the river exiting the lake. The only way across the water were two rope cables mounted firmly into the rocks on either side. We were given harnesses and Ricardo strapped us onto the cables one at a time. Dangling upside down we pulled ourselves along hand over hand to the other side.

I ate a portion of my lunch (prepared by El Pilar’s staff) as the others crossed. We set off for another one and a half miles across a length of moraine and then into the forest. The path was mostly flat but then drastically changed to a nearly fifty percent incline, sometimes we found ourselves climbing rock stairs with both hands and feet. At the top we paused at a waterfall to refill our camelbacks. In an instant they were full of fresh, cold glacier runoff. The way down was additional moraine. The trail disappeared into the rocks as we followed our guide. Near the bottom we turned towards the glacier and moved along the rocky slope. At one point he warned us that the hill was shifting and to watch his feet as we followed. The small pebbles and rocks nearly gave out at several points. Below us about ten feet was a drop off that fell into the lake.

Once on the glacier, we attached the crampons, a sort of metal foot attachment with shark sized teeth that dug into the ice. Crossing the crevasses of the glacier was daunting at first, especially when the bottom was out of sight. Eventually however the gripping strength of the crampons increased our confidence as the terrain leveled out. We paused at the heart of the glacier; Cerro Torre loomed high above us with the lake to our backs. We were the only ones on the ice, in fact the only ones within visible distance. Besides our clothes, there wasn’t a shred of anything manmade; no cars, no homes, no trash, only the ice, the mountains and trees. A cold breeze blew in from the massive snow pack above us. Mathias pointed out the Chilean border located right on the other side of Cerro Torre, he had once been to that point after five days of climbing. We ate lunch as he set up some climbing equipment. After eating we took turns climbing an ice wall, digging the teeth of our crampon toes into the ice while simultaneously using ice picks to make our way up.

The hike back seemed more treacherous and climbing up the moraine more exhausting than before. We paused again at the waterfall to refill and cool off. Mathias informed us that we were on day three of clear weather, something nearly unheard of for southern Patagonia. Once back at Serac, we thanked our guides for their efforts and drove back to El Pilar. After walking nineteen miles the only thing keeping me out of bed was another steak dinner and a few bottles of Quilmes (Argentine beer).

The next day we reluctantly left El Chalten in our rearview. We spotted a group of wild Guanacos (a variety of Lama) braving the cold as we headed back towards El Calafate. We were glad for the several days of uninterrupted good weather but wished for more time. Fitz Roy disappeared into a haze of darkened skies as strong winds blew in a bank of storm clouds. Our departure harkened in the end of good weather and a wondering if the place ever existed at all.

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