Sorry, I got a little sidetracked in posting the pics from our patagonia trip.
I knew it was good at the time, but now in hindsite, I think I could say that this short excursion to Argentina and Chile ties with New Zealand for the best trip ever. Great company, beautiful place. Loved every minute of it. Even the part when I stepped through the ice into the river.
Day two of this trek was absurd. Up an enormous hill of snow (did I mention I was wearing running shoes -bad call) and awesome bouldering fields to reach Lake Schmoll.
The view from up top
tom and matt, feeling the love.
over the peak (where, incidently, you can also arrive by cable car if you wish to avoid using any leg muscles or will power)
Then down, down, down a 45 degree slope of scree to drop 2,000 feet into the valley. You don't walk this part, you pretty much ski, and pray that you don't ass over tea kettle into one of the boulders below.
Then you're in the valley, which is nice and warm and cruel at the same time. Because you're looking around at the impressive wall of mountains surrounding you, wondering how one gets out of the valley. And the answer is straight back up.
Those light brown peaks off to the right are the scree fields we just came down, then through that nice green valley. And back up again, through snow and over boulders. Steep. Very steep.
And, three hours later, when you finally reach the top, you think you've made it.
But then you see a tiny little lake down in the valley on the other side, and there is a tiny little house that you can barely see because it's so far below. And that is where you're going. Legs ask to be left behind. I almost barfed on this last stretch. Freakin exhausting day.
But we finally made it down to Lake Jacob and the adorable little refugio there (the picture at the very top), where we made camp and ate like royalty and slept like the dead.
Patagonia is really stinkin' beautiful
We all looked so dashing and rugged. Couldn't help but do some posing.
Prom pose.
The valley, posing by itself
Sketchiest river crossing ever. Skinny rope to hang onto, white water swirling around your feet, sixty foot waterfall right behind you. Best not to dilly dally. We all made it across without catastrophe, but man, it made your heart kick.
Better crossing. We came down through the valley on the fourth day of the trek. It was a beautiful and (comparatively) relaxing 18k stroll. This trail went mostly through the forest and crossed over the rivers that are fed by the snow capped peaks we'd be playing in for the past three days. Legs were grateful for the break.
Once we made it out of the valley and back into civilization, we headed to Colonia Suisa, an uber charming little swiss village an hour southwest of Bariloche. When we arrived it was getting dark, we were mud covered and soaked and a little less than amped to set up our soggy tents in the rain and sleep in our own filth. So we splurged for a hostel, which had hot showers (thank you god) and served fresh baked bread and coffee in mugs bigger than my head. It was awesome.
Argentina is pretty much perfect. When you want to be outside roughing it, climbing things that seem unclimable, you can. And when you want to pamper yourself and eat delicious chocolate and drink drinkable wine and sleep in style, you can. Someone should tell Bolivia about this.
Once we'd gotten our papmer full, we went in search of a place to pitch our tents and bring in the new year.
We found a little isolated beach on the far side of Little Brown Dog Lake, just a mile or so from Colonia Suisa. Beautiful, quiet, perfect. The sand there was made of tiny pebbles of granite. How many thousands of crushed kitchen countertops had to go into making this place?
Tom, chilling by the lake on new year's eve.
And his right foot, sporting an epic blister.
There's our arses, Mags. We brought in the new year with a midnight dip in Little Brown Dog Lake, and then thawed our frozen buns by the fire. What an awesome way to start the year.
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