Crossing our fingers, we pulled back the curtain and looked out to see what weather southern Patagonia had in store for us. We need not have worried: Cerro Fitz Roy beamed down on us through a few light clouds.
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| Room with a view |
We made it down to breakfast by 7.30, and after a futile trip to see the park ranger (who apparently started rather later than advertised) we set off towards Laguna Torre. The path started from the west of the village, winding up across surprisingly green hills and through light woodland. Off to the left was a small ravine into which waterfalls tumbled. At the mirador overlooking these falls we passed by a large group of middle-aged Germans, and pressed on hoping not to see too many more groups. No such problem, as from then we only passed a handful of people before reaching our goal. It was on the way back that we crossed paths with more people, who apparently hadn't fancied an early start.
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| John on the edge of the ravine |
We walked another half-hour along the gradually rising path before reaching the next mirador. From there we caught our first glimpse of Cerro Torre, the tallest of three shards jutting out from the glaciers in the distance. The sky was still mostly clear, but a greyish fog clung to the spires, only occasionally teasing us with a glimpse of the summit.
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| View of Cerro Fitz Roy to the right and Cerro Torres hiding in the middle |
We continued through the woodland lining the valley, and emerged onto a broad, rocky plain. The river running through it was no more than five metres wide now, a slim remnant of the glacier that had cut through the valley. After around two hours' walk from El Chalten, we crested a gravel slope and looked down on the grey-green waters of Laguna Torre and the translucent blue of the glacier frozen mid-pour above the lake, with the cloud-sheathed Cerro Torre looming over everything.
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| Arrived at Laguna Torre |
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| Cerro Torre starting to clear |
We'd been sheltered from the wind for most of the trek, but now we had to stand our ground against the gusts that swooped down from the glacier. We quickly pulled on our jackets and set off for the walk around the edge of the lake to the Mirador Maestri, a viewpoint closer to Cerro Torre that looks directly down on the glacier. The faint path followed the crest of a high, exposed ridge of glacial detritus: loose rock, large and small, that made for uneasy footing. It took us almost an hour to get there, but the view was well worth it, even if traces of fog still obscured the peak's full glory.
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| Walking along the moraine towards the glacier |
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| Standing at the wind-swept mirador |
We then made our way back to the other side of the laguna to eat lunch, where we were watched enviously by some bird of prey that must have slim pickings up here. As we ate, the fog finally dissipated. The sun shone down unimpeded on the intimidating peak of Cerro Torre. We lingered in front of the impressive view, braving the cold wind, until more people started to arrive and we decided it was time to head back.
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| Cerro Torre revealed |
We walked back the way we had come, occasionally glancing back as the sun cleared away even more of the fog at the base of Cerro Torre. Walking back down across the rubble was jarring on the knees, which Clem in particular felt for the next few days. We stopped again at the mirador, and could now see the whole range much more clearly, Cerro Torres to the left and Cerro Fitz Roy towering above all off to the right. On the way back we spotted a condor far off in the distance, circling above El Chalten. Given the number of dead guanaco we'd seen by the road on our way in (some trapped in barbed wire), they must do fairly good business.
After arriving back in El Chalten we collapsed in our bed, surprisingly exhausted by the seven hour round trip. We emerged from our room only for a shower and a tasty steak dinner at a chronologically-confused parilla, where the otherwise traditional ambiance was offset by blaring 80's music.
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