Bagpipes at sunset
17.2. - 3.3.2024
Jenny and I left the city in the morning. This Argentinian tourist town of El Calafate served as a short stopover due to the airport. We jumped on the bus for a day trip to Los Glaciares National Park, Perito Moreno glacier. There were wild views of the huge glacier very close. This continental glacier is the largest in the world after Antarctica and Greenland. Under the Argentine sun, the edge of the glacier rose above the water to a height of 70 meters.
The glacier is very active here and is in constant motion. It kept banging like a low thunderstorm. At the same time, chunks of ice, which were at best the size of a detached house, fell into the lake. Sometimes the splashes of the ice blocks even rose higher than the glacier!
The next day we took the bus to El Chaltén. It was a few hours away. Here in Patagonia, the long-distance buses are spacious and of high quality, so traveling is as easy as that . Approaching the destination, the mountain peak of Fiz Roy greeted us from afar. It rose against the clear sky to a height of 3405 m.
El Chaltén is one of Patagonia's most prestigious climbing and hiking destinations. This village was surprisingly small and cozy. Due to the high season prices, we ended up at a high-quality campsite, for which we paid around €10 per person per night. Hotel rooms would have been €100 both ways. An excellent restaurant was also found in the city, which offered taste experiences in the local way. For €35, you got a really cool 5-course menu.
We then prepared to leave for the demanding Huemul Circuit. For the Tyrolean traverse crossings of the water body and the gorge, we rented climbing equipment, which was readily available in the city. The Huemul Circuit is a 60 km long and four-day hiking trail. So we packed the hiking equipment, the tent and four days' worth of food into our backpacks.
On the day of departure, the weather was favorable. In the gentle sunshine, it was good to approach the mountains, whose peaks jutted out in different directions. On the easy path, it was nice to walk up and down the hills with fresh legs.
The first place to stay was at the foot of the mountain, from where the route started to climb towards the barren mountain pass. Lush meadows and trees were now left behind.
There was a deep gorge, at the bottom of which roared a powerful rapid. It had to be crossed by cable. The place was really wild looking; Both ends of the cable were on a dangerously inclined rock that led directly into the depths of the gorge. So hanging wildly over the gorge itself would be the safest thing, as long as you could first get to the cable and then after the crossing climb back to the flat path at the other end without being connected to the cable.
For this trip, I had watched YouTube instructions on how to connect the harness and the carabiners to the cable. Just when I was uncertain about attaching the first carabiner, a mountain guide came to the scene. He had come ahead of the guided group to prepare the tyrolean traverse for the group. He asked if he could help so that everything would go faster. Soon we got smoothly over the gorge with our backpacks and learned how it works. The cable crossing was so wild that I didn't even dare to look down at the deafening roar of the rapids.
The path was now narrower and gradually climbed diagonally up the mountainside. Now all that was visible was the rugged looking stone and rock of which these steep mountains were made. The path started to disappear and the stones were very loose under the shoes. The hiking was stopped by a recent-looking landslide that took the path away. No matter where you tried to put weight on the step, the stones started to slide underneath.
We tied each other together with a rope in case the other slips into the abyss. A few bold and quick steps into the unknown were inevitable through this rock avalanche. The loose stones slid underfoot as long as there was weight on it.
I wanted out of this area as soon as possible in case of more landslides. The steep mountainside rose hundreds of meters above, and it was made of this same round loose rock that could come over at any moment. The route improved a little, but each step had to be taken as lightly as possible and feel that the foot holds.
Now the views of the glacier opened up. The scenery was the best I had ever seen on hikes. At the same time, I was a little terrified because I didn't want to die. A group of four Dutch people passed us. We stopped together for lunch to admire the scenery. They didn't mind the dangerous paths because they were probably used to such steeps before.
Before leaving the village, the Dutch had met the French who had been here before. They had been stuck here in the middle of rockfalls in the rain for four days.
The path gradually ascended towards the mountain pass. The type of stone on the slope changed for the better and was now a very jagged pebble that does not start to run off underfoot. The path was well paved and a nice starting point to walk on. Although it was very narrow up here and the mountainside we were walking on was dizzyingly steep. One misstep would result in death.
We got closer to the top, but the snowfall surprised us and the weather turned thick. During strong gusts of wind, you had to kneel down and hold onto the ground with both hands so that the wind wouldn't blow you away.
There was a feeling of victory at the top. The hours of climbing were finally over and the most dangerous paths were cleared unscathed. The view in every direction was covered in thick snowdrifts and fog. At the top of the mountain, the path disappeared under the snow, but we followed the navigator's gps track in the right direction and in places we saw a few footprints that had not yet been completely covered by the snow.
The slope turned downhill and the path was found again. Snowfall and wind also decreased. The path was now easy to walk downhill. Soon the cloud cover opened up a little bit of scenery to the huge glacier and mountains. This was the same glacier as Perito Moreno. Looking at the scenery, it was nice to go down the mountain to the green meadows. After a long day, I really started to get tired. Fortunately, the path in the meadows was faster to walk on and soon we were already at the second camp for the night.
On the third day, we continued our journey towards the next mountain pass. The weather was quite nice and there were nice views of the glacier. The path gradually rose towards the heights and was again quite exciting to walk.
As a first-timer, a short trip on such a path would be enough to provide a suitable dose of excitement. Here, however, you had to walk the paths for hours and be careful with every step. It was mindfulness.
My own way of walking when hiking in Finland is quite carefree; In the midst of looking at all the scenery and thinking, you often stumble a little on uneven terrain when your steps fail. Here, such a walking style would know death and I was therefore a little tense. However, the increased stress levels from the sense of danger kept me concentrated on each step for several hours.
Finally, we pulled ourselves up to the top and said goodbye to the glacier. On the other side of the mountain, new landscapes opened up to a large, approximately 100 km long lake. The downhill was nice at first, but then it got steeper and it was just a cliff that was impossible to walk on. Strong bushes and trees offered a hand and a foothold, from which you could gradually descend by hanging.
The day already started to turn into evening when we reached the third campsite by the lake. From there, you could see the edge of the glacier, which occasionally rattled.
On the fourth day, my legs were already quite tired. I was used to cycling for long days, but there had been very little walking, not to mention the extra weight of the backpack. The trail was very easy and mostly flat, so the trip progressed quickly. The sun was really shining and the weather was quite warm for walking. The 60 km route ended far from the city, and we hadn't taken into account the extra walk to get there. The journey was then by far the most for this day and we finally reached the city in the evening.
We spent the next 1.5 days lounging in the village and enjoying the food of small and personal restaurants. Jenny's return flight to Finland was getting closer, so we took the bus back to El Calafate.
I had left the bike there in storage at the hotel and taken the front wheel to a local bike repair shop to be rebuilt. I didn't have enough cash, so this created a small problem, reminiscent of Argentina's thousands of percent inflation.
On sunday it was impossible to get cash from the city. Banks and ATMs were invalid; the maximum withdrawal amount at one time was around 14 euros, for which a service fee of 7 euros would have been charged.
I sent myself money to Western Union, but the working service points didn't open until tomorrow, Monday. On Monday, there was a long line in front of the door. The cash was said to have run out and they were looking for more from somewhere. After an hour I finally got to the counter. After a few twists and turns and many signatures, I got piles of banknotes, the amount of which I had never seen before at once.
The amount of cash worth 160 euros is 600 in banknotes.
Warning
The next paragraph consists of gear geeking. Skip it, if it isn't your thing.
I finally made it to one man's bike repair shop to pick up my wheel. Jenny had brought the front hub I ordered from Germany with her. It was the only way to get it rebuilt here. I had built a previous wheel myself by watching youtube videos and buying a wheelpro e-book. Now this little-used and expensive SON front hub ended up in the trash, which I talked about in a previous blog post.
Of course, I could have driven the next 50,000 km with a high-quality example of the German engineers' skills, but without electricity. However, I didn't bother to drag the additional weight of the dynamo with me as a useless pledge over all the mountains; including a small braking resistance from the dynamo magnets.
Jenny also brought a 10 Watt solar panel, which was actually a more efficient and lighter power generator than a dynamo. Dynamo's biggest benefit is that when driving in the dark, unlimited bright light is always available. On my trip, I'm not going to cycle much in the dark. In addition, when mountain biking, the Dynamo charges electricity rather poorly when the speed is slow and the daily mileage is relatively small.
At the latitudes of my route, there is a lot of sunlight, so the solar panel is perfect for my use and I can get electricity even on rest days. The phone will be used more on rest days anyway.
Rebuilding a lightly used wheel was frustrating after all the effort I had put into building a perfect wheel. However, the most important thing in building my own wheel had been getting to know the soul of wheels and the ability to repair them now on the road. I have learned that wheels are by no means of the "fit and forget" type, but require periodic tuning. The higher the quality of the wheek, the longer it will last without maintenance. By quality, I mean the precision of hand-building and the functional reliability of the components (hub, rim, spokes and nipples).
I was quite satisfied with the construction of the bike repairer, but later I gave the disc another hour or so to finish it off. I wasn't able to improve it more by adjusting in the front fork, without more precise tools.
However, I am now quite confident in my wheels, and they are very important on my trip. If the wheel fails in the middle of a remote mountain range, the consequences can be fatal.
It's about those equipment.
The receding tail lights of the taxi signaled that Jenny was gone.
Exhausted from the hike, I couldn't ride my bike through the pampas to El To Chaltén, which I had already seen twice from the bus. And since there are no rules on my bike trip, I took the bus to get there with a desire for comfort.
A little sore throat had been bothering me and I was feeling a little worse. I hid in the village in the bushes on the edge of the river for a few days, feeling better. I alsobmet other cyclists there.
El Chaltén is one of the main climbing destinations in South America. Excited by this, but completely inexperienced, I watched wild climbing videos on YouTube for two days in the tent, getting to know what climbing is all about.
I also went on the local Via Ferrata climbing route. It means a climbing route on a rock, which has already been anchored with different steps made of rebars, which can be climbed without previous climbing experience.
On the last day of leaving the city, I rode my bike to different places to watch others rock climbing. In the afternoon, I went up the path to a large climbing site on one of the mountain slopes, near which I could also spend the night.
I noticed a climber practicing Boulder climbing named Sean. He was a professional. I asked if I could stay and watch his climb and he said that's okay.
In bouldering, you climb objects so low that there is no need for a harness. He climbed really skillfully and made big jumps from one hold to another. After a while, a couple of other climbers joined us, whom I had seen before climbing demanding targets.
The evening began to approach and everyone left. Sean asked if I wanted to see some rock paintings. He took me to an adjacent cave-like rock under which there were faded paintings depicting ancient Guanacos .
He showed me a fairly easy Boulder rock and suggested I climb it. I succeeded in that with the second attempt of the nippin button .
We then sat on the mountain to watch the sunset, which painted the opposite mountain golden yellow. The scenery was really wonderful.
Then he pulled out an Irish bagpipe from his backpack. He played a few songs on this rather cool sounding instrument. I gave applause between each song.
This was the most amazing way to greet the sunset.
