i’ve been back for a little over a week and still don’t have words to surpass the pictures… just a few captions…
from paso john garner towards glacier grey. chile.
the view from refugio lopez overlooking lago nahuel huapi. argentina.
the valley that ate my day. argentina.
puerto natales. chile
refugio lopez. nahuel huapi traverse. argentina.
closeup of glacier grey. chile.
from the final landing on the antarctic continent
the first iceberg
la boca, buenos aires. argentina
lago pehoé. paines del torre. chile.
( theyÕre everywhere )
a few weeks back while hiking the Paines del Torres circuit i found myself alone on the trail for the first time in 4 days. during the rain it was great to have fellow hikers to comiserate with, but i tire easily the game of leapfrog that ensues when too many people at varying paces populate the trail. looking back towards the direction i was walking from, i caught the last glimpse of glacier grey and wanted to hold onto it a bit before moving on. above me to the right of the trail i spied a rocky outcrop i thought would make an excellent resting vista. with full pack i negotiated a bit of a climb to get there and as i reached the rock i was stunned. at least a dozen people previously hidden from view turned my way in unison, rolled their eyes, muttered, snickered and went back to their own business. seems we all had the same great idea, or did we? i discovered only later that i had stumbled onto one of lonely planet’s “must do” activities.
it is sometimes sobering in the quest for adventure to find that my unique and thrilling experience is actually a carbon copy of someone else’s. the days of finding solitude in the planet’s grandest placest is tragically gone thanks to the guidebook inspired gringo trail.
as if we don’t set ourselves apart enough by costume, style and language, nothing stands us out more than a well worn Lonely Planet guide clutched in our hands as we stand cluelessly lost on a corner in heavy consultation with our bibles. i have to admit that it wasn’t by choice, but this last week along argentina’s atlantic coast, i found myself without a guidebook and without any idea where i was going. i sort of made it up as i went along and without anyone to warn me otherwise, ended up in the second worst of beach towns. i say second only because the megalopolis of mar del plata further south has all the natural wonder and tranquility of Vegas by the sea. the little town of santa teresita, so unasuming as viewed from the main road, appeared more and more like the county fair as i neared the coast… with all the personality and diversity you would expect
once again i defer to the photos to speak for me
(the urge to yack can only be supressed for so long…)