Ho hum, yet another beautiful vista

Being as we had been sitting in Bariloche for a substantial period of time, Ty and I decided it was time to get out of town and actually do something with ourselves. This in mind, and no Disney related theme parks anywhere in the vicinity, we decided that we would head down south a whole 2 hours to the town of El Bolson. We caught a bus in the afternoon, and a short ride through beautiful fall scenery later (or so I was told, as I went ahead and did the awkward head nod on the bus for 2 hours straight, tired as I was by weeks of inaction and partying), we stepped off the bus.

Lonely Planet describes El Bolson as "the closest thing to Berkely, California that you can find". This statement should have been followed by "if you are only looking in one small valley in Patagonia containing only El Bolson". This is not to say that El Bolson doesn't have it's Berkely-esque qualities, just that the author has obviously never been to Berkely California, at least not in the last 20 years. El Bolson is a "non-nuclear" community, meaning that basically it has no downtown, and it's 25,000 inhabitants live spread far and wide over a very large valley, mostly on small, many organic, farms. Much of the local industry is in organic foods, crafts, and other artisanal creations. On a haphazard (and to me utterly random) schedule 3 or 4 times a week, the town holds a small farmers-market style craft-and-food fair, where the locals gather to sell each other whatever crap they can't con the tourists into buying. (Actually, the fair was very pleasant, with lots of very nice local items which I simply couldn't be bothered to pack around, but most of which my mother would love).

We spent our first full day in El Bolson wandering through the market, snacking on homemade empanadas and checking out the wares, and doing anything else we could think of. Mostly, we were just waiting for the good stretch of weather that was forecasted for the next few days, so we could go on a multi-day trek we'd planned at the last minute, as per our style. Deciding that the coming trek wasn't going to be enough exercise for us, we rented bikes that afternoon and ended up riding about 30km through the countryside, up and down hills, on a giant loop that took us past some very pretty areas, and left us tired and sore.

The planned route for the trek was a two-stop, three day voyage up into the Andes, staying at two different refuges. For those who don't know, throughout the Andes in this area are small refuges, essentially somewhat basic cabins, where one can spend the night. Some have more services than others, from simple unmanned huts to shelter from the cold, to places with mattresses and blankets, kitchens, and food. The two we were planning on visiting were of the latter variety. While it may not be the burliest form of backpacking, it is definitely a pleasant variety as one only needs to pack their clothing and other simple items, and food if they want. We each carried around 20-25 pound packs, mostly loaded with food, and set off the following morning up into the mountains.

Our first leg was a 15 km pack (with about 1250m of elevation change) to the refuge at Hielo Azul. The Argentinians simply do not mess around with their trails, and the majority of the elevation change took place in the first half of the trail. Hiking a little over a kilometer up is a pretty strenuous activity, even with lighter packs, and we reached the flatter second half of the trail with burning legs. Jokingly bitter recriminations ensued about just whose idea it had been to undertake the death-ride of the day before (Ty's). The next section of the trail took us along a ridge, through deciduous forest on fire with autumn red and gold. A few hours hike later, we arrived at the refuge, located in a glacial bowl high up in the mountains and enclosed by tall snow-covered rocky peaks. The refuge itself was small but nice, a log cabin with a small woodstove in the common room, flanked on one side by the kitchen area with a wood-fired stove of its own for cooking. The sleeping area was a loft/attic over head, with mattresses. When we arrived, there was no one around, but we were soon joined by the refuge keepers (a young Argentinian couple who lived there most of the year). Later, we were joined by two more small groups, one of two women in their thirties, and one of an older woman with her 13 year-old daughter and equally 13-year-old daughter's friend. If we'd had any delusions about how tough we were for hiking up there, nothing would dispel them quicker than two 13-year old girls doing the same.

The next morning, we woke early, and leaving our things at the refuge hiked up the side of one of the mountain peaks, to the actual glacier. We fooled around up there for a while, throwing rocks down onto the frozen lake like schoolboys, trying to crack the thick ice, then spent a few minutes trying to break something important by sliding around on it. After a half hour or so, we hiked back down to the refuge (a 2 hour round trip), and after eating a quick lunch, packed up and headed out for the next refuge. The weather was amazing, clear blue with not a cloud in the sky, and just the right fall temperature that hiking in a t-shirt was just enough to stay comfortably warm, without overheating from the hike. The trail again steeply ascended a ridge, before levelling out at the top to continue for several kilometers along it. Again, we hiked amidst deciduous forests with gold and red, yada yada, pretty pretty. (Some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen in my life). After winding along the ridge for some time, the trail makers apparently went insane and decided to make the next half of the trail drop straight off of a cliff. I have never before seen a trail descend so much height over such a small distance. We dropped perhaps 2000m down into a valley on the other side, along a trail barely clinging by it's fingernails to the side of the mountain. The plus side was the spectacular view, out over the valley into which we were essentially falling which spilled out at its far end into the main valley where El Bolson is located. Some time and a stupid amount of beautiful vistas later, we arrived on the floor of the valley, and met up with the main trail that comes up the valley from El Bolson to the refuge we were heading for. Twenty minutes of easy hiking later found us at the refuge door.

This refuge was a small farm with the requisite picturesque log cabin, run by a short, burly mountain-man named Atillio. He was perhaps 70, and had been living here for 23 years, living a completely subsistence lifestyle, raising his own cows and pigs for food, and growing his own vegetables. About 12 years ago, he found himself more and more frequently visited by hikers, and decided to open his home to them for the night, for a small fee. Now, after some additions, his home (while rustic) is quite nice, with a large common room, a decent sized kitchen, and the standard sleeping attic/loft. He was quite an amazing man, living alone (aside from the constant stream of backpackers in the summer) for so long, living off the land on this farm. Over the years, he'd put in some impressive work, clearing out a camping area, building extensive pens and fences, and diverting a small creek a substantial distance to provide water and to power his small turbine for electricity (an ingenious solution, he'd used a small rotor turned by water from the creek, hooked to a car alternater which in turn charged up a rotating supply of truck batteries).

The next day, our planned day of exit from the mountains, we experienced one of our typical spur-of-the-moment changes of plan. Although we had only packed enough food for 3 days, we could purchase enough from Atillio to last another day, and decided to stay. We spent the day hiking around the area, up to another refuge just to visit, followed by hiking up to a vista (and doing some bouldering on the way), before returning in the evening to Atillio's. The final day, we decided to finally leave, and hiked back out down the valley. The exit leg took about 3 hours, an easy hike along a very pretty river running through amazingly blue gorges (earning it the nickname "Cajón de Azule", which translates as "Blue Canyon"). We arrived back at the main road tired and hungry, and proceeded to wait an hour for the bus to pick us up.

After arriving in town, we immediately turned around and caught the bus back to Bariloche. Another 2 hour ride later (this one with me awake for the duration), we arrived back "home."
- posted by Micah @ 12:47 PM