After the last hitch hiking debacle getting caught out in Rio Gallegos, Nadia and I hopped a bus to El Calafate. Calafate was a cool but very touristy kinda place, reminiscent of Hood River in the summer. There are lots of good outdoor activities in the area, and its the main hop off city for the Glaciers National Park. The main street is lined with outdoor gear shops, cafes, restaurants, bars and tourist agencies. The locals say the place is very relaxed in the winter, when all the tourists have left and it returns to just being a quiet little town (very similar to HR!). There is also an endless amount of good ice cream and bakeries, making it a dangerous place to stay for too long.
From El Calafate we did a day trip to the Perito Moreno Glacier, the most popular of the local activities. What makes the glacier so famous is that you can stand from a viewing platform and watch the ice tumble into the lake. We saw a couple of big chunks shear which was sweet and did a boat ride in front of the glacier to get a different perspective.
After the glacier we got a bus to El Chalten, the small community that has developed around tourism around the northern part of The Glaciers Park and Mt. Fitz Roy. From the windy town, you can see Cerro Torre, an inspiring Granite Peak that towers 2000m+ over the valley. You can also see Mt. Fitz Roy, equally inspiring (if you can see it!). We arrived and stayed 3 days in the campground, with endless amounts of wind, bit of rain and lots of cold. The irregular winds were collecting clouds up around the peaks, so we never actually got to see Fitz Roy, a bit of a disappointment. We did a hike around the park, circumnavigating the area below the two peaks and the valley in between. The scenery was spectacular, with occasional views of the Torres.
From El Chalten we wanted to go to the Carretera Austral (Southern Highway), Ruta 7, in Chile, which begins in Villa O'Higgins. The only way to get there is from a water taxi that goes only on Saturday if there isn´t wind, which there always is. Apparently it goes less than once a month. We missed the boat, so we decided to try to head up Ruta 40 (the inland Argentine Highway), made famous by Che Guavera's Motorcycle Diaries, much of which was traveled on this desolate, baren, dry, dirt road in the middle of the pampa (high desert). Our plan was to travel 600km up Ruta 40 to Los Antiguos, cross the border there into Chile, and follow Ruta 7 up through Chile, hiking in San Lorenzo Mastif, Cerro Castillo, Coihayqui, Futaleufu and other spots along the way. The next bus wasn´t for 2 days, so we decided it would be better to try our luck hitch hiking, rather than waiting the extra days for the bus.
We got lucky heading out of El Chalten and got picked up quickly by a nice couple, Merlin and Marina, who own Mountaineering Patagonia (http://mountaineeringpatagonia.com/). They gave us a ride about 100km to the 40, sharing stories, mate and grease cookies (kinda like croissant cookies, only better and more addictive). They dropped us at the intersection of Ruta 40 and 23 where they were headed south to El Calafate. We got lucky again and after 20 minutes got a ride to Tres Lagos, another 40km up the road. At the intersection of Tres Lagos and Ruta 40 were 4 other hitch hikers, so we decided to wait as the gas station to try our luck asking people there. This is the last gas station for more than 300km, so anyone heading north has to stop for fuel. Seemed like a good idea.
We met a really nice group of Argentines who were headed north to their farm on the side of Lake Cardiel. They took us to that intersection and left us around 5pm. The sun was high and hot. We waited patiently for our next ride. Sitting for a while, we realized there weren´t many cars on the 40. The longer we sat, the more we realized how few cars there were. A few passed but no one made any intention of stopping. Most sped by rapidly, as if they had somewhere more important to be, or couldn´t be bothered to slow down to even see us. It was discouraging.
The sun began to set and we were stuck with the realization that we would be sleeping out in the middle of the desert. This wasn´t totally unexpected, and we had food, water, camping gear, and were okay sleeping out. At the sun set into the horizon, it was impressive the solitude we experienced. We were at least 100km from anyone or anything, surrounded by flat plans of desert dust and sand. Vegetaion was sparse and the panoramic vistas reached far into the unknown. At one point as the sun was setting, I looked around to see the sun illuminating the rain clouds to our north, the bubbly storm head to our south, the sunset to the west, and pure blue skies to the east. It was like 4 different climates surrounding our desert camp. Pretty spectacular.
The cross where we had been left off had a cement culvert under the road, and we decided to sleep under the road, rather than braving the windswept plains around us. The breeze was stiff, strong enough to keep a tent rocking to its ebb and flow all night. Our culvert was lined up perfectly East-West, so we had a sunset view from the window. The road also lined up that way, giving way to some wild shadow photos as our dark spaces climbed up the road toward the horizon, getting taller as the sun got lower.
Around 11:45pm it got really dark, and the temperature dropped to a cooler, 40s farenheight. This wasn't so cold, but it was quite windy, so we blockaded the end of the culvert with out backpacks. The night wasn't so bad, but it was short, maybe 6 hours. The sun set in front of our tunnel and rose 6 hours later 80 or 90 degrees to the left of the tunnel, not making it all the way east for the sunrise.
We started hitching around 8am and we were optimistic. As 8am turned to 10am, we still hadn´t seen any cars. After 10am we saw a few, mostly full of people, not interested in the two people sitting in the middle of the desert so early in the morning. Some waved, some began to slow down and then sped up, but mostly, not a single car stopped fully.
Around noon we began to worry. The sun was getting high in the sky, powerful and hot. The wind also began to blow again, washing dust up into our eyes. We could see cars coming from miles away, spotting the small tail of dust blowing across the horizon. Heat waves distorted the horizon, dissapearing up into the long blue sky. We watched clouds rise, cross the 180 degree panorama and fade into the distance. We were there for a vey long time.
We were getting low on water, so we began waving arms holding a water bottle, hoping to stop someone who had a bit of water. Most of the cars didn´t understand or didn´t care. We could have been lying there on the side of the road dead and I don´t think they would have stopped.
Around 4pm a overland transit vehicle (like a big truck, only full of people with a few windows) turned at the lake and headed off into the distance. A few hours later we saw two bicycles heading down the road towards us. It was an interesting encounter. They couldn´t believe we were there, and the could have been a mirage. They were from the overland tour and had gotten stuck in the sand at the lake. They were riding the 40km to a small farm on the other side of the lake to get a truck to help them out. We explained our situation and they said they would pick us up if they got out that night; not likely. So we waited.
It was difficult waiting, not sure if you could expect anyone or no one. At what time do you call it a night and go to sleep when you NEED a ride. We waited till darkness, around midnight and were about to call it a night and hunker down in the culvert for another windy, desert night. As we were discussing our options, we saw lights coming down the road from the lake. It was the overland truck, unstuck and headed our way.
They took us all the way back to El Calafate, where we began our trip a week earlier. It was a great relief to be back into civilization with food, water and shelter. Out of the desert. Although our situation didn´t become serious, it could have, easily. We were well prepared with food, water, shelter, but in a harsh and unpredictable climate, these kind of provisions only mean so much. It was disheartening to see all the cars passing, as if no one cared if we were there or not. We became part of the landscape, another things to drive past without a second glance. Not really people.
Now that I´ve put my time in on Ruta 40, I think I´m going to bus back up towards Futa and catch a few weeks of boating before heading further north towards Mendoza, Cordoba, and Buenos Aires.
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