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March 13, 2016January 19, 2019

Toward El Calafate

Haz clic aquÍ para leer en español

Outside of the borders of the park, we returned to solitude. Here began our “hardships come in 3” run with technology. Our heavy duty camera with all the photos of Torres del Paine was lost in what we will call “an unfortunate river crossing incident.” Clipped from my journal:

Camped beside an abandoned estancia. The wooden floors inside bow and creak, in the corners remains of cattle who once entered here to hide. Now only bones and hide.

Cooking dinner, we mourn the loss of Fancy Camera into the milky, roaring, rapids of Zamora. A rainbow reaches down into our valley, arching before the steep walls of rock, layers of their colors captured in the evening hues. A camera could not do this justice.
Green grass grows. Strange, perfect circles in the grass high up on steep faces.
Puts the event into context.

2016-01-03 18.36.332016-01-03 22.20.07Crossing into Argentina, we hurried toward Perito Moreno Glacier to celebrate Neon’s 31st birthday. We made it, at the cost of losing her cell phone at an overlook. Still, her spirits held, and we celebrated in style. We arrived weary and beaten late in the evening to El Calafate.  All of the cheap hostels were booked full. Even some of the more expensive ones along the main roads were charging exorbitant prices to pitch a tent in their yard. The little money in our pockets was spent down to our last two pesos on a slice of pizza and a can of Fanta, watching it get dark around 10 pm.  It was Neon’s birthday, so we splurged and stayed at a nicer, back street little Hosteria and had our own cabin. It was quite lovely.
As we slumped onto the beds, staring wearily at the wall, the owner rapped at the door with an Alfajor with a small candle in it for Neon and towels for the shower. We had everything we could need and more.

This experience in the city and several others throughout Argentina continue to confirm that when traveling to Argentina, one is better off to bring U.S. cash. Not only because of the better exchange rate on the unofficial market ‘Dolar Blue,’ but also because often times the cash machines are out of money. In this particular visit every machine in town absolutely refused to accept our cards. Stress mounted.

We ran in circles between the cash machines, the company who manage the gate of the park to see if Neon’s phone had been turned in, and the Forest Service headquarters, seeking a permiso to take a little known route through Los Glaciares. Our proposed plan was declared impossible. Until Boris, the Guardaparque of that region appeared and said it was doable. By the next morning we had permission for at least half of our proposed route, Neon got a new camera and tablet (we passed paths with Boris here), were able to resupply using our cards (where we again encountered Boris), and paid the hosteria via Paypal. Even roadwalking across open land under hot sun felt better than all that stress.

0$Images$9_100_PANAP1000009JPGAs this was east to west movement, we hitched east around Lago Argentino. We were picked up by the Rs in a large work truck trundling up Ruta 40. They were curious what a couple of women were doing out here between their towns. As I explained our endeavor, we came upon a car flipped onto its roof in the middle of the road.
“You came here looking for adventure off the beaten path, gringas,” Roberto said as they reversed the truck and hopped out. Using a large chain and hook, they turned and righted the vehicle. Oil leaked out of the hood, restaurant flyers fluttered out of the car in the ripping winds. Blood drips on the road but the driver refused care, more concerned about leaving the scene before police arrived.
As the police pulled up, the small collection of folk who had approached in that time one by one shuffled past the driver, wishing him well. Everyone out here knows everyone else. We loaded back up and soon the guys dropped us at remote route 19 where we would make up for the kilometers of north riding by hiking directly west bound fro 60 km of abandoned, gated off farm road to get back to the mountains.

Hacía el Calafate

Fuera de los límites del parque, volvimos a la soledad. Aquí comenzaron nuestra dificultades ´”vienen de a 3″ con la tecnología. Nuesta cámara de alta resistencia con todas las fotos de Torres del Paine se perdió en lo que llamaremos “un cruce de río infortunado”. Recorte de mi diario.

Acampando al lado de una estancia abandonada. Los suelos de madera en el interior del arco y crujido, en las esquinas restos de caganado que una vez entraron aqui para esconderse. Ahora solo huesos y piel.

Cocinar la cena, lloramos la pérdida de la cámara de lujo en los lechosos y rugidos Rápidos de Zamora. Un arcoiris alcanza bajo en nuestro valle, arqueando antes de las escarpadas paredes de roca, capas de los colores capturados en las tonalidades de la tarde. Una cámara no podria hacer justicia.

La hierva verde crece, círculos perfectos extraños en la hierba alta hasta en las casas empinadas.

Pone el caso en contexto.

2016-01-03 18.36.33

2016-01-03 22.20.07Cruzando hacía Argentina, nos apuramos hacia el glaciar Perito Moreno para celebrar el 31 cumpleaños de Neon. Lo hicimos, a costa de perder su télefono celular en un mirador. Aún asi, su espirtu se animó y celebramos con estilo. Llegamos cansadas y golpeadas tarde en la noche a Calafate. Todos los hostales estaban completamente llenos. Incluso alguno de los más caros a lo largo de las carreteras principales estaban cobrando precios exorbitantes para una tienda de campaña en su patio. El poco dinero en nuestros bolsillos se gastó hasta los últimos dos pesos en una rebanada de pizza y una lata de Fanta, viendo como se ponía de noche a las 10 pm. Era el cumpleaños de Neon, así que tiramos y nos alojamos en una pequeña hosteria agradable, y tuvimos nuestra propia cabina. Era bastante bonito. A medida que se dejó caer en la cama, mirando con cansancio en la pared, el propietario llamó a la puerta con un alfajor con una pequeña vela en el para Neon y toallas para la ducha. Teníamos todo lo que podíamos necesitar y más.

Esta experiencia en la ciudad y varios otros a través de Argentina siguen confirmando que cuando se viaja a Argentina, es mejor llevar efectivo de EE.UU. no sólo debido a la mejor tasa de cambio en el mercado oficial ´´Dolar Azul´´ sino también porque muchas veces los cajeros automáticos éstan fuera de dinero. En esta visita en particular todas las máquinas en la ciudad absolutamentese negó a aceptar nuestras tarjetas. El estrés montado.

Nos encontramos en los círculos entre las máquinas de efectivo, la empresa que maneja la puerta del parque para ver si el télefono de Neon se había encendido, y en la sede del Servicio Forestal para pedir permiso para tomar una ruta poco conocido a través de los glaciares. Nuestro plan propuesto fue declarado imposible. Hasta que Boris, el guardaparques de esa región apareció y dijo que era factible. Por la mañana siguiente teníamos permiso para al menos la mitad de nuestra ruta propuesta, Neon consigió una nueva cámara y una tablet (pasamos por caminos con Boris aquí), fuimos capaces de reabastecer el usando nuestras tarjetas (donde nuevamente encontramos a Boris), y pagar la hosteria a través de paypal. Incluso senderismo a través de la tierra abierta bajo el sol caliente se sentía mejor que todo esa tensión.

0$Images$9_100_PANAP1000009JPGEsto era movimiento de este a oeste, enganchamos este alrededor del Lago Argentino, nos recogieron por los Rs en un gran camión de trabajo rodando hasta la ruta 40. Ellos estaban curiosos de que estaban haciendo un par de mujeres aquí en su pueblo. Como he explicado nuestro esfuerzo, nos encontramos con un coche volteado sobre su techo en el medio de la carretera.

´´Ustedes vinieron aquí en busca de una aventura fuera de lo común, gringas´´, dijo Roberto, al tiempo que retrocedian el camión y saltó. El uso de una gran cadena y el gancho, se volvieron y enderezaron el vehículo. Aceite filtrado fuera del capó. Folletos de restaurantes revoloteaban fuera del auto con los vientos rasgados. La sangre goteaba en la carretera, pero el conductor se negó a la atención, mas preocupado por salir de la escena antes que llegara la policía.

Cuando la policia apareció, la pequeña colección de gente que se habia acercado en ese momento uno por un arrastrando los pies mas allá del conductor, deseándole lo mejor. Todo el mundo aquí conoce a todo el mundo. Nos cargamos de nuevo y pronto los chicos nos dejaron en una ruta remota 19 donde compensariamos por los kilómetros que caminamos al norte por el senderismo directamente al oeste con destino vaivén 60 kilómetros de carretera abandonada granja, fuera cerrada para volver a las montañas.

 

 

Posted in En Español, Fidgit, Her Odyssey, Patagonia Thru-Hike, Thru-hike
Tagged car wreck, El Calafate, Estancias, Hosteria, Perito Moreno Glacier, Ruta 40
4 Comments
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Comments (4)

  • Will Keyworth March 13, 2016 at 6:10 pm Reply

    happy birthday neon. glad you guys were able to find your route. and man…you simply can’t make this stuff up. craziness out there, but better than being bored! glad you were able to restore your tech goodies, etc. and carry on lovelies. thinking of and praying for you every step of the way

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  • jaki and henry florsheim March 14, 2016 at 11:02 am Reply

    BRAVE WOMEN!

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  • Will Keyworth March 21, 2016 at 1:42 pm Reply

    any pics of the “perfect circles in the grass”? do you think they were manmade?

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    • Fidgit March 21, 2016 at 11:12 pm Reply

      Unfortunately this was right when our camera took a swim, so no pictures. It was on pretty steep terrain, such that vehicle could not have created them. Some weird planting or something, perhaps? There were 3 of them at least 20 feet in diameter.

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Excerpts from 'Going Home' by Thich Nhat Hanh:

When you practice the bell of mindfulness, you breathe in, and you listen deeply to the sound of the bell, and you say, "Listen, listen." Then you breathe out and you say, "This wonderful sound brings me back to my true home. Our true home is something we all want to go back to. Some of us feel we don't have a home.

Does a wave have a home? When a wave looks deeply into herself, she will realize the presence of all the other waves. When we are mindful, fully living each moment of our daily lives, we may realize that everyone and everything around us is our home.

Isn't it true that the air we breathe is our home, that the blue sky, the rivers, the mountains, the people around us, the trees, and the animals are our home? 

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When you practice walking meditation, walk in such a way that you recognize your home, in the here and the now. See the trees as your home, the air as your home, the blue sky as your home, and the earth that you tread as your home. This can only be done in the here and the now.

Sometimes we have a feeling of alienation. We feel lonely and as if we are cut off from everything. We have been a wanderer and have tried hard but have never been able to reach our true home. However, we all have a home, and this is our practice, the practice of going home.

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