Hiking in El Chalten

I woke up at 6.50am and rolled out of bed. I threw my hiking gear and went straight to reception to
book the guided tour. Firstly, the guy said it was 7am on the dot and to come back later once the place
had a chance to open. So I ate breakfast – it was an upgrade one, the free one was only toast, jam,
cornflakes and coffee. At 7.30am I joined the long reception queue and wanted to book the guided one, but he actually booked the solo one. He said it was easy to do it yourself and you got a lot more time in El Chalten so I went for it. As he wrote my receipt at snail pace, stopping to talk, he said I had to get to the bus station by 8am and it was fifteen minutes walk away. Then I asked about the packed lunchbox, the nice breakfast guy said he could make it in ten minutes. This was 7.37am. The receptionist repeated I didn’t have much time.

I marched through the dark streets, no idea where I was going. The roads are unpaved and the mud
ground was frozen. As I got to the bus station the conductor was looking for me. I got on the bus and half dozed off until the sun rose. There were lots of Spanish couples on the bus and I forgot my
headphones. The most amazing mountain views rolled past, like Otago after a fresh snowfall but with
more Guanacos bouncing past.

After two hours, Mt Fitz Roy came into view. It’s jagged teeth looked so dramatic in the morning light. I hoped that the weather held out long enough for me to make it to the viewpoint. The bus dropped us off at the park information centre on the other side of town, where a woman ran us through all the different hikes available and the conditions for that day. She said out of the two I had been recommended, one was too icy to walk without crampons. So it seemed Lake Capri was the only walk over an hour available that day. She also mentioned to the group about toilets, 50 metres from a stream at least, that you could drink the water from the rivers, and that there were no helicopters in El Chalten so know your limits.

The bus then drove past the station and dropped us at a hostel closer to Sendero Laguna Capri.
Everyone was staying at least one night so they had bags to check in. I didn’t and walked straight up to the path. It was a beautiful mountain that would look at place around Wanaka. But the initial part of the path was so icy. I clambered up losing confidence, if I was going to be like this the entire way, I wouldn’t be able to do it alone!

As I was turning back, looking for sharp stones to jam in my boots and make-shirt crampons a couple from Chile started up the path. Watching them I felt more confident again and walked 100 metres behind them. I also saw the nice Spanish couple from the bus walking towards the
path, so I knew they’d be behind me. The ice dissipated after we left the shade of the trees, turning into hard-packed and frozen mud. We walked around the edge of the mountain covered in golden tussock, bright green rivers in the valley below and amazing views of more snowy mountains in front.

I passed the Chileans at a secoya tree they were taking photos of. I could hear someone behind me, but when I eventually saw them, it was the Spanish couple. We walked close together for a while, splitting at the loop to Laguna Capri/Fitz Roy look out. I knew the clouds were meant to come in during the afternoon so I wanted to skip ahead to the lookout as soon as I could. Fitz Roy appeared under perfect diffused sunlight. I spoke to another Spanish couple leaving the lookout because the man was wearing an All Blacks beanie. Then a nice Argentinian family took some photos of me.

After the lookout, I continued on the lake loop. This was on the Western side so it got more sun, the path was easy to walk on. I bumped into the first Spanish couple again who said the Capri side was icy. They weren’t wrong! The lake was completely frozen over but I could hear water bubbling somewhere, maybe from a stream. I also started noticing lots of footprints in the snow, as I was walking slowly. There were hare prints, some that could be either Puma, fox or an illegal dog, and huge hooves of a huemul. This was around the campground area.

I rejoined the track and started my descent down. I knew it would be slower walking on the ice down,
but it was a lot slower. Two men from Barcelona said to me ‘tranquilo, tranquilo’ as I walked over a
super icy patch. At one point I came to some completely iced over stairs. I defaulted to going around and put my boot on a 45-degree mud slope. The mud was soft, probably from melted snow, and I slipped, my ankle clicked and snapping back at an unnatural angle. I didn’t scream but I fell over.

I sat on the ground in the ice for a while, wondering if it was broken. I could move my toes but it hurt a lot. With no other option and no one else around, I wrapped it tightly with my scarf, picking up my
makeshift walking stick and continued very slowly down the mountain.

I saw a family who asked if it was far, the mother in a white puffer jacket and carrying a designer handbag. I also met a girl from El Chalten who asked me to take a photo of her, but with the front facing camera because her phone was smashed. Neither of these people asked about my ankle or limp, but then they spoke less English than I did Spanish.

I enjoyed my alfajores on the river lookout. And then I saw the Chileans wandering off the wrong
direction on a different path. “Donde vas?” I called out to them, and they laughed coming to join it
again, then they overtook me.

I had a quick look at the river but then went to the bar and ordered a local blonde beer. It was pretty
nice, the flavour reminded me of a banana for some reason. Everyone was there – the Chileans, the
Barcelonans, all the Spanish couples. At 4.30pm I got back on the bus and enjoyed the sunset views
going back into El Calafate.

Back at the hostel, I had once again arrived at 8pm, so I ordered some spaghetti bolognese for dinner
with a glass of wine. A free-spirited French guy saw I was sitting alone, so asked me to join his table. But everyone there spoke Spanish. Luis was there from my room. Then Piedra joined us and saved me. She was half Peruvian, half Argentinian and spoke excellent English due to having an Australian boyfriend at one point in time.

A group of boys on a lad’s tour had arrived and were all chanting in French, beer bottles covering the table. Some were wearing shorts, jandals or no shoes in the middle of freezing Patagonia, it made me wonder if they were kiwis.

I drank some of Luis’s beer and we tried speaking on Google Translate, but it was hard work. I was exhausted so I headed off to bed around midnight, Luis seemed disappointed when I left!