I was heading to a place called El Calafate, which is back in Argentina and so required another interminable set of border crossings and passport stamps. I've got a good few now, but they're all Argentina and Chile!
El Calafate is famous for only one thing and that's as the base for exploring the Perito Moreno glacier. It's a bit of a one horse town and feels like its set on the moon rather than Argentina.
It has its pretty bits.
It has its pretty bits.
But the rest of it is pretty standard Patagonian fare - rubble roads, sparse half-built houses and plenty of plastic bags.
Like everyone else here though I was off to look at the glacier. Four kilometres across, 70 metres high at its face and travelling at a speed of between two and three metres a day - even though I knew all these numbers and looked at it from the boat as we approached it, it didn't really sink in just how big it actually is.
Like everyone else here though I was off to look at the glacier. Four kilometres across, 70 metres high at its face and travelling at a speed of between two and three metres a day - even though I knew all these numbers and looked at it from the boat as we approached it, it didn't really sink in just how big it actually is.
It's not until you get close to it that you realise what an absolutely enormous slab of ice this glacier is.
As impressive as it was to look at from the lake, the point of my trip was not just to stare up at it. I wanted to climb it, and fortunately so did a dozen other people, and even more fortuitously a company had some guides who would take us. What a stroke of luck.
I have to admit though, up close it seemed like it was going to be a tough couple of hours.
Oh well, best crack on. I put some crampons on
and the guides set off hacking a path up the ice for us.
Oh well, best crack on. I put some crampons on
and the guides set off hacking a path up the ice for us.
Two slighter women you couldn't find, Julia and Paula were tiny, but they smashed up the ice a treat and we were on our way.
We passed the odd crevasse, and this one was about 10 feet deep, but the guides reassured us that on a glacier like Perito Moreno they don't just open up underneath you, they take months to get even this big.
The blue colour is because the ice below the surface is so densely packed that it has a different refractive index (can't remember if that's the right phrase, but it traps light differently to ordinary snow and ice), and this what gives the whole glacier its blue hue.
The blue colour is because the ice below the surface is so densely packed that it has a different refractive index (can't remember if that's the right phrase, but it traps light differently to ordinary snow and ice), and this what gives the whole glacier its blue hue.
After a couple of hours clambering over the ice, and thoroughly enjoying ourselves, it was back down to the edge for the ubiquitous scotch on the glacial rocks.
And a spot of lunch overlooking where we'd just been. It's not a bad spot really.
As we were waiting for the boat to come and collect us I was taking some pics of the face of the glacier when a huge lump fell off it. I just managed to catch the last bit going in, which was in itself the size of a car.
And a spot of lunch overlooking where we'd just been. It's not a bad spot really.
As we were waiting for the boat to come and collect us I was taking some pics of the face of the glacier when a huge lump fell off it. I just managed to catch the last bit going in, which was in itself the size of a car.
The ice "calf", as they're called, was so big it sent a huge wave rippling across the lake.
It was an exciting conclusion to another exhilerating day.
It was an exciting conclusion to another exhilerating day.
I think I may begin to suffer amazement fatigue soon. I need some bland grey London drabness to ground me again!
