El Chaltén, is the self-proclaimed “National Capital of Trekking”. Located within Los Glaciares National Park at 400m, it serves as the main starting point for hiking around Mount Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre. I was first attracted here in 1990 because I wanted to see Cerro Torre, 3,128 m. Not so high but it has a reputation as being the hardest mountain in the world to climb. Quite which mountain is the hardest appears to depend on how you define “hard”. Details notwithstanding, to climb Cerro Torre requires scaling a 1,000 m vertical granite spire. There are massive overhanging ice mushrooms on the top. And the weather is notorious for changing viciously and rapidly. It is a properly difficult climb. Remarkable stories and mysteries cling to this mountain like ice rime. The first undisputed ascent was not until 1974.
Back in 1990, I came here with a couple of friends. We hiked close to Fitzroy for a few days. The weather turned bad and my friends headed back to El Calafate. I spent a few days on my own wandering around. The weather came good and I got to spend a couple of nights camping close to Cerro Torre. I enjoyed just being up there, soaking in the scenery and taking a few photographs. El Chaltén was just a bus stop at the end of a long dirt track. There was a bus every few days. In all the time I was there, I did not see anyone else until the bus driver arrived. Here are a few pictures from back then. My mechanical film camera had a clockwork timer which allowed me to take the occasional selfie.
Today, El Chaltén, is vastly different. It is a substantial town bustling with brightly coloured tourists and shops. The hills are a maze of tracks and signposts. The roads pulse with small tour busses and cars. It was an easy three-hour drive from El Calafate. Along the way we saw Guanaco and a few birds including a rather magnificent condor.
We continued past the town, over a rather exciting suspension bridge with a wooden deck and along a dirt track to the glamping pods. We were welcomed into two large pods which formed the main dining area. Then we were guided along wooden walkways through the forest to our pod for the next few nights. It was rather nice. We had a view of the mountains and a comfortable bed. There was a wood burning stove close to the foot of the bed. Behind the bed and behind a wooden wall, was compact bathroom. All very cosy. However, we did not hang around. The weather was great but the forecast looked awful. The Andes mountains catch the wind blowing in from the pacific. The weather can change alarmingly.
Making the best of the sunshine, we headed up a well-worn track to a place called Mira Torre. Here was a popular viewpoint for Cerro Torre. The path was heaving with people. All sorts, from ill equipped youngsters in shorts and training shoes through to those more our age with walking poles, sensible boots and rucksacks. We plodded up hill for a couple of hours. No real need for a map. The route was clear and there were many signs. Some benches, a large sign and a rudimentary toilet marked our arrival. It was a nice walk and I enjoyed seeing Cerro Torre up close again. I also sat and ruminated on how much fitter I was forty odd years ago.
Clouds were blowing in and the sky was darkening as we came back down. The scene of the last kilometre reminded me of the Lake District on a bank holiday. I could see scores of people streaming off the hillside. Large, guided groups, small groups, individuals, families and all possible combinations. The bars and restaurants were filling up. Everywhere, hill walkers were returning from the mountains and embracing the evening. National Capital of Trekking may well be a good description.
We got back late. The sun had set and the cold evening was drawing in. Fortunately, dinner back in the main pod was excellent. Generous portions of home cooked food, a blazing stove and delicious Argentinian wine. Then we had to find our way back to our pod in the dark. When we arrived, the fire had been lit making everything snug and cosy.
In the night the rain arrived. Rain and wind. It was loud, noisy and cold. I got up in the middle of the night to reload the stove with heavy, dense wood to keep it going until morning. Later, over breakfast, we felt a bit smug while listening to some of the conversations around us. Many of the other pod dwellers were unfamiliar with the vagaries of wood burning stoves and had started the day in a freezing cold pod.
The next two days were wall to wall rain and wind. We kept our pod warm and cosy. It was really very nice sitting in there while the wind howled through the forest and the rain battered the roof. Eventually, we braved a short walk and got completely soaked. On the second day, we drove up a track to the north. There was not much to see. We did find a lake with a tourist boat. However, we declined the offer of an hour in a cold, open boat on a misty lake in the rain. On the way back we found a waterfall which provided half an hour of distraction.
It was still raining the next day as we left. Things improved as we headed back to El Calafate. The sun was beginning to break through as we arrived at our previous hotel overlooking Lago Argentina. We went into town for dinner. Earlier, we had spotted a restaurant offering home made pasta. This proved to be excellent. We ate early and then headed back to the hotel so that we could pack in preparation of a few days travelling.
