I set off for Rio Gallegos from Puerto Madryn several days ago on an overnight bus that shouldn't have taken more than 18 hours, but for some reason, the police were out in full force. Almost every bus I've ever been on has had to pass through a police checkpoint at some time along the journey. Generally, they're just a bureaucratic relic from the days of military dictatorships, but they were actually used this trip. Thrice. Police stormed the bus each time and asked for everyone's papers and recorded the passengers on board. Because of this, and an unusually late departure (even for this country), I arrived at my destination 6 hours late. So I missed my connection and had to kill the day in the capital city of the Santa Cruz province. Way less interesting than it sounds. I did meet a few interesting travellers, though. Catching the last bus, I arrived in El Calafate, Argentina at 1am with 2 shirts, one fleece, one windbreaker, and a pair of shoes. Not much, considering that this city is generally regarded as the glacier capital of the world. After a very solid slumber, I woke up early and asked the staff at my hostel for a few good side trips. The first one was a trek up to a very scenic vista overlooking the city. It included dinner and departed that afternoon.
I was picked up at my hostel by some employees of the estancia that hosted the hike. Looking around the bus, I realized that I had again met up with another branch of the traveling geriatrics. Wonderful. I wondered what kind of "adventure" could be in store for me and the octogenarians. We stopped at a few other hostels, at one point picking up a guy who was probably in his lower thirties. Even though he looked Italian, I was at least happy to have someone to relate with, if not speak the same language. It turns out, though, that we ended up picking up his wife downtown, so I was once again the lone ranger.
We arrived at the estancia around 6pm (no problem, since the sun doesn't set until 10:30 this far south). It turns out that there were several options to reach the vista. Most of the other travelers went off to the horse stables or Land Rovers, but the Italian couple and I stuck around to climb up on our own power. This is where things started getting ugly.
So, our guide turned out to be an Argentine professional basketball player, so of course he's in shape. And the couple? They're two members from the Italian Alps professional mountain climbing team scouting out locations for their next practice center. And then there's me, the out of shape yankee exchange student who's been sucking down cows' legs for the past six months. They hauled ass. To make things worse, I was lugging around my backpack, since I didn't have a lock to store it in my room. We scaled the first 1000 meters (of altitude change, not trail length) in thirty minutes. For those of you that think in yards, that's fast! And for the kicker, the guide asked us if we wanted to run the last 300. Sergio and Monica didn't even need to think about their answer, so all three heads immediately turned to me. Of course I was going to say yes; I'm a guy, mildly competitive, and full of myself. I thought I could handle it. What followed is a little fuzzy, but I can remember thinking, "and I'm paying for this shit?!" All jokes aside, though, the view at the top was well worth the effort, but I'll let you decide.
And yes, that's a skull in my hand. I found it on the way up. It's probably a puma. I had to leave it behind, though, it was smelling up my backpack, and I definitely don't need any help with that.
Ok. I've got a whole day to kill before my 3am bus out of here, so I'm going to go get some lunch and give you a chance to digest this. I'll be back in a bit with the best part of the week.
M
