After a successful trip through the lake district, I hopped the 34 hour bus (technically a series of 3 buses) down to El Calafate, very close to the southernmost point of the mainland of South America. The route took me across Patagonia, which is renknowned for its beauty. All I saw was a windswept barren plain. Admittedly, it was a freaking huge windswept barren plain, but there you go. I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder. When I left Bariloche, I didn´t realize I could catch all three buses in rapid succession, and as a result I once again arrived at a bad time, 1 AM. In this tiny little town, there was nothing open, and I was genuinely worried that I would spend a night sleeping on a park bench. The bite in the wind was a little chilly for that. The guidebook showed a number of hostels spread around, but all of them were closed. Upon arriving at the last, and furthest away, I was thrilled to see a light on above the door. The outer door was unlocked so I walked in, and tried the inner door as well. To my geniune surprise, it too was unlocked, rendering the rather fancy keypad beside it all but useless. Unfortunately, the lobby was dark and the office was locked up. Visions of sleeping in the lobby bounced around my head (infinitely more inviting than the park bench), but before going down that road, I tracked down the source of the light. Luck was on my side yet again, as it was the owner´s apartment. He was just headed to bed, but graciously let me a bed for the night first. I´m starting to worry all this good luck is going to catch up with me one of these days.

El Calafate is, as so many towns in this region are, a purely tourist town. In fact, the major reason to go here, and the only reason I went, is to visit the Perito Moreno glacier. Since I arrived a bit late to scope out the logisitcs of that endeavour, I took my first day in town off and did a bit of road maintenance (i.e. wash clothes, shower, deodorize shoes, etc.). The following day I hopped a bus out to the glacier national park.

As I mentioned in my previous posting, the black glacier was my first real sighting, and wasn´t terribly impressive. The Perito Moreno glacier, conversely, defies description. The field of ice behind the glacial front is a massive array of icy spires. How anyone traverses such an area I can´t begin to imagine. The front of the glacier, though, is the real wonder. It stands out of the water around 200 feet and has a frontage of over 3 miles, all of which is colored in varying hues of blue. I tried to get a picture that did justice to the size of it, but failed miserably.

It truly surpassed my expectations. After a couple of hours, I got a nasty headache from the light reflecting off of it, and I still wanted to stare at it. As the day progressed, and the sun did its work, pieces of the glacier started to cascade off in a cacophony of cracks and splashes that sounded like a massive thunderstorm. I saw a number of small icebergs birthed, but the highlight was when one of the 200 foot spires along the front of the iceberg, probably 30 or 40 feet thick, peeled away and crashed into the water, sending a spray of water out hundreds of feet and creating a massive wave. Very cool.

Crowds aren´t allowed to go close to the iceberg, or down to water level because of the danger from pieces falling off. As a result, it is difficult to get a good perspective on the size. Since I was stuck there for about seven hours (hardly a problem I was upset about), I decided to do a bit of exploring for a better look. Yet again, I set off on a trail of unknown source and questionable validity. It steered me down near the water, and intersected a blazed trail I assumed to be one of the authorized guide trails. There are areas reserved for people with permission only. Since I saw no signs to that effect, though, I decided it looked like a nice enough trail for me. Hiking along, I got some terrific views of the lake and surrounding mountains (this lake was the same eerie green color from the glacial runoff) and as I got closer was able to get some nice pictures of the glacier from ground level. It was a terrific day.

From El Calafate, I was headed south to Tierra del Fuego, and the End of the World. Well, at least the end of the part you can drive to, which is close to a town called Ushuaia. En route, we crossed the Strait of Magellan on a ferry. It wasn´t the uninviting vicious crossing I´d hoped for (barely even a gentle rocking in the boat) but there were some black and white dolphins playing in the surf created by the ferry. Good enough for me.

Tierra del Fuego, like Patagonia, was pretty barren in the north and extremely windy. Walking was difficult when the gusts got rolling across the plains. In the south of the island, though, the terrain is much different, as the southern reaches of the Andes finish off in a string of snow-capped peaks. It was among these mountains that Ushuaia was nestled, with an ocean frontage to add a bit of contrast. From Ushuaia, I shot over to Tierra del Fuego National Park to hike around for a bit. They had a "difficult" 8 hour hike to the top of one of the mountains that was meant to provide some great views. I had 6.5 hours until the last bus left, so naturally I gave it a shot. Signs along the way talked about warning park rangers and taking suitable equipment, but I figured my jacket and slip-on shoes would probably be adequate. The trail, unfortunately, was a sloppy, muddy mess as a recent snow storm had begun to melt and saturate the ground. As I sludged up the hill, I encountered increasing amounts of snow on the ground and hopped across a number of swelling streams. At one stage, the trail emerged at a great overlook, and I was treated to a view of the islands and mountains in the area.

The condition of the trail rapidly degenerated from there, and I found myself trudging through 4-5 inches of snow. That in itself wasn´t terrible, but underneath the snow was a very muddy stream that sucked at my shoes at every step. I cleared the tree line and had a terrific view of the mountain that I had to climb up. Unfortunately, my view of the trail was non-existent as it was an untouched swath of snow. Upon looking at the surrounding area, I was further alarmed to see an oncoming cloud with a rather menacing dark color.

The desire to climb up this mountain was powerful, but I decided for once to let my better judgement rule the day, and turned back. I still regret the decision a bit, but it was the correct one, as my bus ended up leaving about 15 minutes early. I almost certainly would have missed it.

With that, I had come to the point furthest south on the map, literally the end of the road. It was the start of the second week of April, and I decided to start heading north before the next snow storm trapped me. However, I´d reached an important junction in my journey, as I was leaving Argentina for the last time to head into Chile. After just over two months, I was finally moving on. In retrospect, I think choosing Argentina as a starting point was a terrific decision. The country is relatively cheap, very safe, in most areas very modern, and extremely diverse.

In terms of highlights I´ve left out of my travelouge thus far, I´ll add these: I ate llama, blood sausage, and grilled intestines; drank tea from coca leaves (tasted like spinach water); washed my hands in glacier water (very very soft water); went two weeks without taking a poop (not terribly enjoyable, but still noteworthy); and saw the "Southern Cross" for the first time. Argentina has also given me a unique accent that will likely last in my Spanish for quite some time, but it´s been a great trip to this point. And now, it´s on to Chile!!