Hasta la vista, Patagonia

Flight 2871, somewhere between El Calafate and Buenos Aires, Argentina 8/01/2009

And so my first Patagonian adventure ends. My first because I am sure, as sure as I am that I will go back to Mexico and Ireland some day, that there will a second, a third… who knows? Adventure because, pardon if I exaggerate, these last few days truly felt like and adventure.

I did kilometres on a bike against a wind that forced to pedal even when going downhill, saw and heard unknown birds during walk around Laguna Nimes, got sun, rain, fog, snow and a lot of wind in the three hour trek to Glaciar Grande and Lago de la Torre, indulged my eyes with views I thought impossible and bestowed my legs endless kilometres on the way up to Fritz Roy and Laguna de los Tres, walked on the ice in a glacier as big as Buenos Aires…

For some it might not be very impressive, but for me it was an adventure. Even today, which I spent reading in the sun in the only windless day I got in Patagonia, had something adventurous about it.

Thank you Patagonia. Until we meet again.

Beyond words

El Chalten, Patagonia, Argentina – 06/01/2009

The first view of the Fritz Roy.

The first photograph of Fritz Roy.

The organization and dedication of the wildlife guards.

The begining of the trek to Laguna de la Torre.

The sun.

The Rain.

The mist.

The snow.

The wind, always the wind.

The hundreds of broken down trees.

The hundreds of trees burnt by human stupidity.

The steppe.

The woods.

The bogs.

The Fritz Roy river and its blueness.

The rocks of all sizes.

The Laguna de la Torrre and the same blueness.

The Glaciar Grande.

The mountains hiding behind the mist.

The return.

The silence.

The 22km we walked.

The Rancho Grande steak with 2 eggs.

The bottles of Quilmes.

The few hours of sleep.

The 7am sun.

The beginning of the Fritz Roy climb.

The 1001 views of Fritz Roy.

The smoking mountain.

The streams and rivers.

The Poincenot, the Fritz Roy, the Madsen and the Glaciar de las Piedras Blancas.

The wooden bridges.

The climbs and more climbs.

The “holas” and “hellos” of the people who pass us by.

The 1001 photos of Fritz Roy.

The Rio Blanco.

The Camp.

The first view of the climb to Lago de los Tres.

The company of Marc and Martin.

The people who pass.

The people who return.

The steps.

The stone steps.

The arrival.

The view.

The Laguna de los Tres.

The Fritz Roy in close-up.

The heroes that climb Fritz Roy.

The 1001 photos of the lanscape.

The smiles.

The pause for some food.

The wind.

The beginning of the return.

The people who pass and ask how much further.

The waters of the river we drink.

The way down.

The 2002 views of Fritz Roy.

The 2002 photos of Fritz Roy, again.

The wind.

The lunch break in the sun with a view to Fritz Roy.

The return to the hostel.

The pen that writes.

The notebook in which I write.

There are no adjectives in this world that can describe any of this.