El Chaltén: Facing up to Fitz Roy

I thought it would only be right as the inaugural entry into this blog to be a story from a place so beautiful it inspired my best friend’s first ever tattoo.  Patagonia, more specifically the mountaineering town of El Chaltén. 

To understand the pure, unrivalled beauty of Patagonia you have to see it with your own eyes, otherwise you may not believe what you may have heard. The bus journey from El Calafate towards El Chaltén spans about three hours, however, in reality it actually feels closer to 30 minutes as you’re completely dazzled and dazed by what you’re seeing from the bus window. Rolling mountains, vast deserted lands, and rivers full of icy clear glacial water, it’s the closest I’ve come to feeling like I’ve stepped foot into a classic western film set. 

Upon arriving into El Chaltén, you’re greeted with your first look at the iconic and unique peak of Fitz Roy, a solo beacon standing above the rest. For me, it was a real ‘pinch yourself’ moment, all the hard work to get to this moment had felt like it finally paid off. The hostel that my friend Alex had chosen was a running joke between him, Annabel (my other friend on the trip) and I, it was the only place we gave him freedom to pick along our tour of Argentina, and, to be fair to him, he made a great choice. We’ll never forget Rancho Grande and its beautiful bright yellow walls. 

Heading for dinner and a drink or two in El Chaltén is the perfect place to meet some fascinating people, the stories you hear from avid climbers, businessmen blowing off steam in a very unique way, and everyday tourists/travellers may be some of the greatest you’ll ever hear. Talking of businessmen blowing off steam, in a bar in El Chaltén is where my two companions and I met David, an American man who had come to Patagonia as a solo challenge. After three or four IPAs we had all become good friends, we told him our story of being childhood best friends, growing up in the same small village, and all having worked full time in pubs and restaurants to save money for the trip. In exchange, he told us about his business (which potentially due to the IPAs I don’t exactly remember what it was) and how he was here, completely alone, with his teenage daughter back at home. He was a truly inspiring person, especially when we found out he was going to take on the famous Laguna de Los Tres hike at sunrise tomorrow, the same hike we were going to embark on, however much later in the day. 

Back at the hostel room we met our roommate, Ana, from Argentina. Bear in mind that all three of us were extremely new to Argentina at that time, having only spent a week in the country. However, after a little bit of small talk and discovering that she was an extreme fan of hiking, Alex tried to impress her with his extensive knowledge of Argentine cuisine. She asked us: “so, what’s your favourite Argentine food?”, to that question Alex beautifully responded with pure innocence: “You know Medialunas? They’re like croissants but sweeter.” What ensued was what felt like an eternity of an awkward silence, a near enough sacred sweet treat in Argentina being compared to their larger (less sweet) French cousin was so offensive to Ana that we practically never shared small talk again, and with that we all headed to bed.

After a rough night’s sleep in the hostel bunkbeds, we were ready to take on Fitz Roy. 

My dream to do this hike spanned well over a year. I would work my job of washing pots drifting off into a distant place, dreaming of seeing that blue lagoon in front of Fitz Roy and sitting there contently, sipping on a yerba mate. Luckily for me, that day had arrived. Alex, Annabel and I set off early, onto the well beaten track of which many adventurers had stepped before us. There was a real sense of accomplishment between the three of us even 1km into the 20km round trip. We passed through wooded areas which seemed to be straight out of a fairytale, we climbed up rugged terrain, and then finally around seven kilometres in we realised… this isn’t much of a challenge is it? I mean, it felt like some of the walks I’d done in the Lake District were more challenging than this. 

This turned out to be an extremely poor statement to make. 

Along the trail there are various signs telling you where you’re at on the hike, at kilometre nine you’re met with one simply reading “9km, duration: 1 hour.” We muttered between ourselves, “one hour for one kilometre? We can do it in 30 minutes I’m sure.” Unsurprisingly, whoever had put that sign there knew a little more than three English teenagers. The last kilometre felt like the mountain’s way of telling you: “Oh, you want the amazing views? You’re going to have to work a bit harder for them, sorry!” It felt impossible at times, loose rubble crumbling beneath you at every step, if you dared to look beyond the path you’re trekking, you’d be met with views that looked like they were straight out of a Bob Ross painting, but also a real sense of how high you had trekked. There are three separate encounters I remember vividly from that last kilometre, the first being with David the American business man from the night before, we were headed up as he was already heading back down, he shared a few brief words of encouragement and went on his way.  The second encounter was with what I can only assume was a Dutch teenager who took a liking to my Burnley football shirt, as he passed, he excitedly exclaimed: “Wout Weghorst!”, to which I nodded in agreement as if to say: “yes, Wout Weghorst does play for Burnley.” And finally, probably the most impressive encounter of the lot, was with a group of elderly ladies, probably well into their 70s, and making the most difficult part of the hike look like a walk in the park. In all honesty, they gave us three teenagers a very bad look fitness wise. 

At last, after four, somewhat grueling hours of walking and climbing, we made it to the top of the trail. The moment we had been waiting for, to see Fitz Roy in all its divine beauty. But, instead what were we greeted with? 

Clouds.

That’s right, the peak of Fitz Roy had what looked like a ball of cotton stuck to the top of it, in turn completely obscuring our view of the peak. Despite this inconvenience, we weren’t going to let some clouds ruin this potentially once in a lifetime experience and standing there at the top of the trail with my two travel companions, Fitz Roy on one side and a view into an idyllic valley on the other, I think we all had a moment stuck in complete awe of the situation.