CHILLY IN CHILE

Right, my turn (LP) to give an update - its a biggie, so grab a cuppa.

After another very early start from Buenos Aires, we flew down to El Calafate, Patagonia, 51 degrees south of the Equator and home to to El puerto Moreno glaciar. The weather was very clear on the flight down and our pilot treated us to a scenic flight over the Glaciar, which is 30 km long, 5km wide and the height of a 15 storey building. It was a spectacular sight from the air and we couldn't wait to get a closer look.

The next day we took a took a bus up to the Glaciar which as we thought was incredible, the highlight of our trip so far - hope my pictures give a small idea of its beauty. Hearing the loud cracks as bits of the glaciar broke off and fell into the water below was awesome. (calving)

After some lunch we took a boat out on the lake to get an up close look but ultimately we both agreed that the views were better from land. The trip took the whole day and we got back to the hostel exhausted, in part due to the days' excursions but mainly due to a horrible nights sleep the night before - we got a aussie snorer in our dorm, his cresendos kept us awake most of the night. Determined to avoid a similar fate that night, we both bought earplugs and we woke the next day feeling refreshed. Unfortunately though i deaf in my left ear - i had been over zealous with inserting the little b*****s and Dooney did not supervise me so when i woke part of the wax earplug was lodged in the inner ear.

So, as we waited for our 8am bus to depart from the station down to Puerto Natales (the gateway to torres Del Paine and jewel in Chiles crown) Dr Dooney attempted to perfrom minor ear surgery in the back of the bus but to no avail - i'm still as deaf as a post in my left ear.
The bus journey to Puerto Natales where we change to a bus to the Park itself. We had reservations that night at a Refugio/Hostel which could only be accessed by Catamaran. Unfortunately for us the border crossing into Chile was a nightmare it took nearly three hours. When we finally got to Puerto Natales (at 3.45 instead of 1.30) we were herded onto another bus going to the Park by a seriously panicked Chilean bus driver. Thinking he was just very concerned that we would make our Catamaran at 6 (he promised to get us there) we jumped aboard (he left every one else behind that hadn't made it to the bus) and we were gone less than a half an hour when he announced that we would not make it to the Catamaran but that he would leave us at the entrance to the Park. Eh, WHAT?!!! this park wasn't the type of place you rocked up and found lodgings - it was vast, for starters, with no transport around it, dusk was falling and it was below zero. We were furious with the driver for not just advising us to stay in Puerto Natales for the night (all he cared about was collecting his passengers from the pick up point in the park). He didn't give a continental about our plight, nor really did the park ranger. By some kind of miracle though when the driver drove us to the administration area we found a small refugio with two beds for the night and we nearly wept with joy. After our gracious driver had dumped our bags on the road, we headed in for a nice meal and a much needed and quickly consumed bottle of wine.

The following day we had to organise a private van to take us to the Catamaran launch as there isn't really any transport links within the Park - one bus left from the admisitration at 11 to the Catamaran, but ludicrously, it did not coincide with the departure time of the Catamaran. Basically, the Park is this wild beautiful place, but so badly organised that unless you are in a tour you face considerable difficulties just to get around the place. Anyway, we finally got to our digs, 24 hours late. The hostel was set on the side of Lake Pehoe and the views should have been great, if it were not for the gale force winds, sub zero temperatures and driving rain. We walked through those doors and immediately entered a different world - all these alien people getting about indoors in scarves, gloves, kitted out in the latest North face gear, expensive hiking boots, walking poles all looking like they were about to attempt Everest. Thats when the stares started. Good, long, 'did they wander onto the wrong train/boat' stares. Ok, so we stuck out a little - I, for example, had waltzed in wearing, jeans, black 'fashion trainers', sweatshirt and sailing jacket. I had no gloves or hat (too busy packing 5 bikinis in Dublin) and the required ten tonne backpack with all the bells and whistles hanging off the back was replaced by a lovely brown leather weekend tote i had picked up in Buenos Aires. One could have been forgiven for thinking i was off to a country lodge and spa for the weekend. But still, you think i had arrived in naked doing the charleston........

I was kinda amused by all of this. Andrew, on the other hand was feeling slightly more self conscious, worrying that perhaps the stares were justified - the weather was horriffic outside, maybe i would die of exposure on any trek attempted in my weekend kit (he wasn't much better either - at least he remembered hat and gloves). Sensing his despair, i gave him a hug, told him that we wold have lunch, then go out for a lovely walk together and not to mind the stares of the marching community - we were trying to do something positive and if they could not appreciate that, well... they could go stick their marching poles where the sun don't shine.

Before we set off, we spoke to the manager of the place, a young guy, who reccomended a walk and then asked us did we have any experience in trekking. I looked at him blankly. Experience in walking? Surely, I thought, its just a case of putting one front in front of the other? ok, im being facisicious - he was clearly referring to exeperience trekking with a large backpack - i smoothly assured him that that didn't apply to us - we had travelled light (hoping he hadn't seen my grossly innappropriate, but lovely weekend bag). Unwittingly, but as if to further compound our feelings of inadequacy, he then said that refugios these days were all luxury (?) and that really, he preferred to sleep in his tent, after telling us how just the week before 4 tents had blown into lake pehoe and sunk to the bottom (i presume no one was in them). I listened and nodded as if to say, yeah your so right, i totally agree... secretly, i was thanking every god i could think of that i did not have to camp in those conditions.

So, with my trusty pashmina wrapped around my head as a head scarf and hands tucked firmly in the pockets, we set off into a wind chill of -1, some light rain and heavy winds for our 'afternoon stroll'. We were heading to the first lookout point for the Grey Glaciar (the largest of its kind in Chile). It was a steep 11/2 hour climb. It wasn't so bad once we started walking - in despite our make shift gear and dubious glances from our tramping colleagues, our legs did not disslove and our faces did not fall off. We did just fine as we were.

We got back to our Refugio three hours later feeling revitalised. Upon walking in, andrew observed one german girl actually pointing and laughing at my rig-out mouthing the words 'crazy' to her assembled cronies. Whatever fraulein. I had successfully completed my penance for the day and headed off to the bar for some celebatory drinks, which was followed by a less than excellent dinner. Then it was back to our sub-arctic room for a long sleep.

The following day, as if by reward, the weather picked up and after drawing more attention to myself by accidently smashing a plate at breakfast, we headed off on a longer hike (5 1/2 hours in total) to a place called campo Italiano - another stop off point for the trekkers who were trekking a five day circuit of the park. The views were fabulous and all in all it was a very pleasant day. We returned to the refugio pretty grubby and made further enemies by enquiring when the hot water came on only to be told it already was.

We had hoped to go kayaking near one of the glaciars and horseriding as well, but to my great disappointment, you could not organise them from within the park, (the kayak tour operators had just gone bust!) another example of how difficult it was to go there independently. That was a real shame because i had been looking forward to the horseriding for ages, but it wasn't to be i guess..

On day three we headed back in the Catamaran where of course the bus we booked did not link with same and so to pass a further three hour wait in a very cold wind, we took another walk to the Salto Grande - a very picturesque lookout point with an impressive waterfall. After catching the bus back to Puerto Natales (a nice, if weather beaten town - Andrew says NZers should think Bluff or Gore perhaps?) and after spending the night there, we got on our bus back to El Calafate (which was not nearly so painful this time) and the following day caught the plane back to Buenos Aires where we were treated to some airplane haute cuisine of raw sausage wrapped in sponge. Andrew mowed the whole thing down and immediately assured me it was the nastiest airplane feed he had ever tasted and that it was worth noting same for the record in our blog.

After a nights sleep in BA we caught a flight to Lima, Peru. Next stop Cuzco and Maccu Pichu. We cant wait.