Now, some of you may have noticed i haven`t updated this blog for a while, or even in fact since i started it. You´d be right. I can explain this, honest, but am not going to now, but in my `Buenos Aires`post that will be coming shortly. You may think this is a feeble attempt to keep you reading. And you´d be right. For now though, read on as if nothing happened here. Cheers...
... And so we arrive at El Chalten, which looks to me as if it has been constructed in a matter of days. Those days being fairly recent. We watch as the main road is literally started and finished during our short three day stay here. El Chalten is a higgledy piggledy accumulation of no more than one storey buildings spread over a loose hub of a town. Our hostel owner laughs when we ask where the centre of town is saying ´There is no centre, it just is´. The same could also be said of his hostel which seems to have been created by a builder with only a scant grasping of either stability or protection from the elements. The first night there i have the pleasure of a mid sleep shower as the poor excuse for a roof decides i need an early wash. The hostel is however full of a nice bunch, with nationalities ranging from Indian, German through to Israeli. The latter decide on the second night to pack for their next day´s travels at midnight thus disturbing the entire room only to add a 1am shower (not togeter i don`t think) to the pot. These very same guys have already endered themselves to us by firstly dictating to us how to trek around the mountain and then proceed on a 12 hour trek in the rain with only fleeces for comfort. They returned shivering wrecks but still not wanting to lose face. The fateful third night features my first night of ´Stomach complications´and the whole dorm tucks themselves to sleep to my ´sounds´eminating from the ensuite. I am embarassingly aware, yet unable to do anything about them.
Anyway, all is not doom and gloom and El Chalten is a lovely town with a lot of character, far less polished that El Calafate and far more discreetly touristy, surrouded by rolling hills and mountains. With that in mind we sign up for a glaciar walk...
... and at 7 am the next day we shelter from the rain in the cimbing centre doorway with a man who turns out to be our guide for the day. As the two other trekkers turn up, Dutch girls, we set out on what looks to be a soggy experience. And i´m not wrong as the rain continues to pour during out 4hr trek uphill, our winch river crossing, our sliding down mud flats until, after our stepping down boulders in what seems to be avalanche territory, it spills us out onto the foot of a glaciar. By now, my waterproof boots have given up the fight and my feet are swimming in 3 inches of water. This, however, is nothing compared to the others who don`t appear to have a dry bone between them. Becky´s raincoat waved the surrender flag early and as we attach crampons and make our way up onto a solid block of ice i can see her whole body shaking from the cold. The glaciar is amazing though, and we trudge between walls of ice and slide down giant ice cubes to our 10m climbing wall... of ice. Each of us in turn dons a hat and ice picks and attempts to Spiderman it up the freezing wall, whilst the others huddle together like penguins in the icy breeze and rain. Both of us manage to make it to the top, beating the Dutch girls to it,bt becky makes it with a lot more style and grace as i return to earth a wobbling, sponge-legged mess.
On our return back, obviously still in the rain. One of the Dutch girls is clearly far from enjoying herself and is stumbling due to physical and emotional exhaustion. And lagging some 50m behind the others, i witness her fall awkwardly on her hand, lifting herself up,pulling her glove off to reveal one finger at a 90 degree (where the hell is the degree sign on this keyboard???) angle from where it should have been. Our up til now silent guide very calmly and cooly (no pun intended) pops it back into position with instant relief to all involved, particularly the owner of said finger.
We return from our 12hr cold shower at a gallop and seel refuge in our bunk where we stay eating chocolate and drinking tea for the next 24hrs straight.
Note to selves, Ice climbing must always be accompained by sun.
> Flickr photo album for this chapter
No comments:
Post a Comment