No Regrets!

Exhausted this morning, but the adrenaline of a glacier hike pushed me through the process of sitting up and putting pants on.

Our bus this morning took us to a small dock on Lago Argentino, where we got onto a small boat and went straight to Perito Moreno. A small spit of land sticks into the center of the glacier and separates it into a north face and a south face. Yesterday’s catamaran tour took us to the north face, but today we’d be doing a “mini-trek” along the south face.

Cooney was our English-speaking guide. He was fluent but had a pretty strong accent and had this funny habit of finishing every phrase with “Yes?” almost as if he needed to make sure we understood what he was saying. “Today we go on top of the glacier, yes? If you have health problems, you talk to me, yes? Pregnant women cannot take this excursion, yes?”

We took a short hike through the forest and were led to a shed at the base of the glacier. There, we strapped on some crampons. Very cool feeling walking around in those things. Cooney gave us a quick lesson on how to walk properly on the slippery ice, and we were off.

On the glacier, the sun was warm, the breeze was cool. The ice was crunchy beneath our crampons, almost the consistency of granola. Everything was melting, so the ice got a bit slushy in places and little streams of water flowed across the surface. Larger holes and cracks led to rushing torrents of water deeper in the glacier. The deeper the crack, the deeper the blue.

Melting, cracking ice makes some pretty amazing shapes. The rock dust is a natural occurrence, but I imagine that the scene would be really amazing if the formations were perfectly clean.

The water trickling across the glacier is pure. Although light sprinklings of rock dust make it look dirty, Cooney assured me that the water is safe to drink. So I bent down and had a sip of pure glacier water. Cold and delicious.

The hike had lots of ups and downs, but when you consider how enormous Perito Moreno is, we really didn’t cover very much ground at all. We didn’t come anywhere near the unstable and dangerous front edge, which is too bad, because that would have been cool.

In our group was an Italian couple. The guy was the ultimate douchebag, with his designer jeans, designer sunglasses, and gelled-up hair. It’s funny how Italians never dress down for anything, even hikes across glaciers.

Before packing it in, we stopped at a little table that was set up with glasses. Cooney and the other guides used their picks to chop up some ice from the glacier and served whiskey to the group. Very cool. I just wish I liked whiskey.

The box lunch packed by our hotel consisted of a vile ham and cheese pie, a mealy apple, and a bottle of water. But it was the only food around, so I did my best.

Our boat came to take us back to the bus, and then we were whisked off to the tourist-filled viewing platforms offering impressive views of the north face.

Standing in front of the glacier, you hear all kinds of sounds: cracks, pops, and rumbles. Everyone waits patiently for a chunk of ice to crack off and splash into the water, and every few minutes, it happens. It’s hard to photograph because you never know which part of the enormous glacier will rupture.

What I find interesting is that, after inspecting older photos, the front edge of the glacier seems to have been in the same basic shape for the last decade, despite the constant calving. The little archway of ice between the north face and the south face has looked the same for years.

It was when I was leaving the platform that I tripped on a step and fell on my ass, rolling awkwardly to keep my camera and tripod from hitting the ground. For a fleeting moment, everyone turned away from the glacier, looked at me, and went silent. To the best of my knowledge, there is no photographic evidence of this event.

Just as we were heading back to the bus, we heard a deep rumble and turned around to see an enormous pillar of ice topple over and crash into the water. The booming sound it made was tremendous. Pretty amazing to watch.

There is so much in this part of the country we just didn’t have time to see. I would have liked to get to picturesque Cerro Fitz Roy, I hear good things about Bariloche, and Chile’s Torres del Paine National Park looks amazing. We could have easily spent another week down here. Next time.

Before leaving El Calafate, we stopped at Borges y Alvarez and I had my first South American burger. A major disappointment. This country takes its pride in high-quality meat, and its steaks are amazing, but this burger was obviously sliced from a loaf.

A guy named Mario was our driver back to the airport. Very friendly guy. His English wasn’t so great, but we all bonded over our mutual appreciation of Boca Juniors futbol. He carried our luggage, walked us inside, joked around with his airport friends, and walked us all the way to the gate. One of the few guys who actually earned his tip.

We’re now on a flight back to Buenos Aires. Somehow, the Patagonia package that Gog purchased included Business Class seats on this flight. Sweet! I’ve never flown through the pink clouds of sunset before. Fact: they’re only pink on the outside.

Unfortunately, this vacation is winding down now, but we have a last hurrah in BA before we head home. We’ll be there tonight and then all day tomorrow. Warren has graciously offered to let us stay with him at the ridiculous luxury penthouse he has just rented for himself in the city center.

It was just after midnight when we landed in BA. Our taxi took us to the address Warren had given us. Huge condominium. Walked into the lobby, signed in with the security guard, and headed up to the 21st floor.

Warren welcomed us with a big smile and led us to the balcony, where three attractive, dressed up young women were sitting and laughing and drinking. By the look of the empty wine bottles, it looked like they had been at it for a little while.

WTF? A moment to elaborate on our surprise. Warren is a nice guy who likes to have a good time, but he’s never been known to have women draped all over him. Now here he was, in a penthouse in Buenos Aires, with three attractive girls sitting on his balcony and getting drunk. Was this another hookeria?

Warren dragged us inside and gave us a quick tour of his enormous, ridiculous, four-bedroom penthouse. The 21st floor IS Warren’s place. Fully furnished, with giant couches, huge flat panel TVs, wood floors IN the showers, huge windows all around with a 360° view of Buenos Aires.

Warren is my hero.

Gog and I were wearing stinky Patagonia clothes and flip-flops, so we flipped a coin for bedroom choice (I won), cleaned up a bit, and joined everyone on the balcony. We sipped wine and chatted, with the red blinking lights of the Buenos Aires skyline all around us.

A couple of more people showed up. One, a local named Diego, offered to take us all out to one of his favorite clubs, Esperanto. So at 3am, we headed over.

People were pushing to get in, bouncers were screaming at people and each other. We arrived at Esperanto in two groups, and there was a bit of drama getting us all in, but we made it.

The place was raging inside. We walked upstairs to the main dance floor, which was packed. We drank, we danced. Why didn’t Gog and I discover places like this our first time through Buenos Aires? Why aren’t places like this in any of our travel guides?

And the girls… I was ready to concede that the women of Argentina were nothing special until we got here. THIS is where all the attractive women in Argentina were. Amazing. Diego told us to just grab them by the hand and start talking or dancing with them. I don’t do either very well, so I couldn’t hold any girl’s interest for more than a few seconds. You gotta speak the language.

We emerged from the club at 6:15am, with the sun blazing. The street was a mix of early risers and people stumbling out of clubs. What a night. I feel like Gog and I didn’t give BA a fair shake our first time through. We’ve only scratched the surface.

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