Fitz Roy

Jonathan:
After our glorious 6 days on the "W," we crossed the border back into Argentina and headed back through the all too familiar El Calafate on our way north to the top side of Glaciers National Park and the magnificent Cerro Fitz Roy - a stunning tower of jagged rock that juts up out of the plains at the head of the Patagonian cordillera.

We had heard that Fitz Roy itself was almost always shrouded in clouds and could be difficult to see. In fact we had heard stories from people who had spent weeks in the area and never caught a glimpse of the peak. But for some reason the night we arrived, as we crested the surrounding hills and began our decent into the picturesque Chaltén river valley, we were graced with a crystal clear panorama of a spectacular and dramatic range of peaks. Fitz Roy was almost perfectly framed by deep blue sky and a few fiery clouds that were still catching some light from the setting sun.

We spent our first couple of days in Chaltén gearing up for yet another back country trip, and visiting the rangers' station to familiarize ourselves with the park. Initially we had thought that after our aggressive and somewhat grueling time in Torres del Paine, we would take it easy and do a quick 2-3 day trip around Fitz Roy - just enough to make it to a few lookout points and get a good sense for the peaks. Well, somewhere in the planning process that idea got lost and we ended up planning another 5 day adventure that would take us deep into the gnarled valleys of this beautiful range.

Our all-to-recent trip into Torres was the first time Megan and I had used our packs in the back country. The majority of the trip we've carted them between bus stations and hotels and not much in between, so we were pleased to find out that our backpacks actually work as backpacks. Regardless, we were still nursing sore shoulders and hips from our last adventure when we strapped 'em on and headed into the wild yet again.

Our first day on the trail we were blessed with more gorgeously crisp views of Fitz Roy. After we set up our tents at our first campsite, Andy and I made a quick trip straight up the seemingly vertical valley wall to the official mirador for a better view the peak, its massive glaciers, and the crystal blue lagunas that sparkle on either side. Doing our best to not lose our footing in the thunderous gusts of wind, we got our first taste of the powerful presence of Fitz Roy... At some point earlier that day, Andy had mentioned that for him, mountains seem alive somehow - showing emotions, and changing moods from one day to the next. I knew exactly what he meant at the time; I grew up around mountains. But Fitz Roy... I've never seen anything like it.

Awe stricken in its shadow, we watched as the rock face stared down at us, drawing swarms of wispy clouds out of thin air around it, leaving us with only brief glimpses of its jagged summit. Thick storm clouds crashed around its base like waves from the ice fields beyond, doubling over on themselves, and reeling back into the grey valleys where they had started. The peak felt massive and fierce, truly awesome.

We spent the remaining four days winding our way through the lush old growth forest, giant boulder fields, dramatic canyons, and expansive river valleys of the park, always in the shadows of the dramatic rock towers and frigid glaciers of the surrounding peaks. With only a few exceptions, we found that we had most of the trails and campsites to ourselves - A sharp contrast to our recent experience on the overcrowded "W" where we were rarely out of earshot from other hikers, and almost never slept more then 4 or 5 feet from the next tent.

Our last day on the trail, we had planned to get up early and hike to a nearby mirador for a glimpse of Cerro Torre at sunrise, the smaller but equally impressive counterpart to Fitz Roy. Unfortunately that day we found out the hard way that these mountains are seen when they want to be seen... Cerro Torre was so thick in clouds we could barely even see the trail that led to the lookout. So we happily slept in a little, packed up camp, and made our way back down to Chaltén where we would spend the night, and head out on an early morning bus back to good ol' El Calafate.

Our third and final time through that cookie-cutter town, we ended up only having about 4 hours to kill before we boarded a night bus for the grueling 28 hour trip up to the Lakes District. It was enough time to stock up on snacks, water, and a little wine to help pass the time on the long trip north.