Gracefully Abroad: El Chalten
By Grace Carballo ‘17
(Part 2 of My Patagonia Experience)
After Perrito Moreno and our short stay in Calafate, Francesca and I hopped on a 3 hour bus to get to El Chalten. We lucked out and were assigned the best seats, front row with a view that couldn’t be beat, but unfortunately a couple nabbed what was rightfully ours and we didn’t have the heart to ask them to move.
When we arrived, we left our bags in our bunk beds in a room about the size of a study room in Leavey, where we lived the next few days with 4 others (from Austria, France, Argentina, and New York). The space was tight but the company was good and we coexisted unbelievably well. One particularly awesome roommate even gave me a pair of earplugs to help me sleep better and let Francesca and I sketch him on our last night together. Hostels might be the most effective and efficient ways of establishing lasting friendships, plus they’re the most economical place of residence.
Our first afternoon, feeling ambitious, we decided to hike to Laguna Torre, a little over 10 km away. Francesca was the guide, with several maps on hand at all times, and I was essentially dead weight or pleasant companionship, depending on how you look at it.
Patagonia is beautiful year round (I’ve seen photos of other seasons) but I can personally attest to the magic that is autumn in Patagonia. Having two fall semesters is probably every Trojan’s dream and now that I’m mid my second fall semester of the year, I am living it and it is magnificent. In El Chalten, unlike Los Angeles, however, fall is actually perceptibly different than the other seasons and the foliage is captivating.
The hike led to Laguna Torre, with beautiful views, floating ice chunks, and the cutest family picnic I’ve ever borne witness to, including those of my own flesh and blood. Francesca and I talked the kids into taking a picture with their dad, which I have high hopes will be their 2016 Holiday card. The daughter also asked her father to take a photo of her “cuando estoy distraída” (”when I’m distracted”) which is a really clever way of naming a “candid”, in my opinion.
We made it back to the hostel as night fell, with sore feet but full hearts, and in my case, more photos than even my most loyal friend would ever have the patience to look through.
Each morning in El Chalten, we awoke before the sunrise, both because the sunrises were unbelievable (the pink glow they left on Fitz Roy and the other mountains was breathtaking) and also because whenever the first of our roommates woke up, we all woke up.
Our legs were sore but our time was limited and the day was perfect. We decided to go for the longest and most challenging day hike in the area, Laguna de los Tres. The first km is nearly all uphill, the next 8-9 are scenic and pleasant (great for playing games like Nunca He Hecho (Never Have I Ever) and saying “Hola” to everyone you pass, even if you suspect they might also be Gringos), and the last km is literally up a mountain, with no end in sight for an hour of sweaty perseverance, until you finally reach the summit and get a view of the bluest lake you ever did see.
Perhaps the best afternoon I’ve ever lived was amongst these rocks, soaking in this view, with the sun on my face, Francesca by my side, and trail mix in my belly.
Francesca and I drank the water straight out of the Laguna de Los Tres, which might stress you out (as it did me), especially given my still vivid memories of my rather recent parasite encounters last semester in Nicaragua. But this water is crystal clear and all of the hikers and campers take great care to keep it that way. I was really happy and relieved to see everyone living the whole “take only pictures, leave only footprints” lifestyle because I want the generations to come to be able to enjoy the natural beauty and resources that I’ve had the privilege to experience.
The next day we were very tempted to give our aching bodies a day off but in the words of an old cross-country shirt I once owned, “Pain is temporary, pride lasts forever.” We set off to do the last of the three big day hikes, a task we’d undertaken in less than 72 hours fueled by copious amounts of dried fruits and the human spirit.
The third hike, called Loma del Pliegue Tombado (though I can never remember this wordy label and had to look it up to write this), was also a long one with an intimidatingly steep ascent to get to the viewpoint. We tried capturing, to no avail, the sheer altitude of what we had somehow scaled, to brag to future generations and our parents. So, just trust me, though this picture makes it look like a mole hill, it was a mountain, and I had to take my inhaler twice on the way up. (shout-out to my pulmonologist- I’d be lost without you).
Though it seems we were sponsored by the Argentinian brand of Corn Flakes, we were not, just thought they added something to the aesthetic of this photo.
Also they are bland and not filling, if you want my objective opinion and Francesca would probably concur, although I won’t speak on her behalf. We were busy enjoying the views and mingling with new friends atop the mountain to dwell on this, of course.
The Loma del Pliegue Tombado hike was worth the effort, as all of them were, especially because it got us high enough to see all the other hikes we’d done in the preceding days. It was the clearest my sense of direction has ever been and will ever be.
Our last morning in El Chalten was bittersweet, but mostly bitter because what kind of person would be happy to leave a place like this? Despite our best and brightest efforts, we’d done little (to none) of our homework and knew we had to leave our houses the next morning at 8 AM for class.
After exchanging social media contact information with our beloved hostel mates (#followforfollow) (#siguemetesigo) and trying to lather on enough chapstick to make our lips look somewhat lip-like (the wind really did a number on our kissers), we hit the trails one last time for a short and sweet hike to the overlook the town we’d come to know and love.
We made it to the bus station early (which anyone who knows either of us would dub a miracle) and asserted ourselves to get the prime front-row seats we’d always sought.
At the risk of sounding cornier than the corn flakes, I’m going to cherish my time in El Chalten, the people I met in the hostel and along the way, and the bond Francesca and I built amongst the rocks and trees until my dying day and probably after it, too.
Fight on, get outside, and respect your sweet Mother Nature and all she does for you,
Grace Carballo ‘17
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