Andes Trekking

I left off with taking the bus to Catedral - the largest ski resort in the Southern hemisphere. We saw tourists standing in a line 30 deep at the resort entrance. There's no snow, of course, but plenty of people in the summer who want to ride the lifts for the view. We were after views of our own, but we were going to earn them. We walked past the tourists to the big sign, almost hidden in the far corner of the parking lot, that said, "A REFUGIO FREY".


But first, meet Ben, my traveling companion. Ben is a cool guy from Texas, a fly fishing guide by summer and student at A&M otherwise. (To Finnegans: he went to Highland Park! I could say "small world", but really its more like "Highland Park is huge") We have a spanish-only agreement that we usually remember to follow.

A refugio is a refuge, a little cabin-of-comforts in the wilderness. There are many refugios up in the national parks here, usually about a day's hike apart. They are simple log cabins with 20 bunk beds and a kitchen of exquisitely overprised food (to be fair, somebody had to trek 10 crates of coca-cola up the mountain). So, theoretically, one can hike from refugio to refugio for days, never having to worry about the usual camping pain of carrying tents, 15 pounds of dried food, or little hissy tinfoil camp stoves. But that's not really hiking. I prefer doing it the old fashioned way.

Thought we had 3 different maps of the area, topographic and otherwise, the plan was basically to follow the signs. We knew the path was well-marked and well-traversed, so we assumed the trail's difficulty wasn't much, just judging by the number of footprints.

Soon after starting, we saw a sign alerting us, among other things, not to make fires in the national park, not to bring pets, and that it would take us 4 hours to reach the refugio. Instead of kilometers (though later we learned it was about 9) it gave us a time goal. It must be an average, we thought, and since this trail is well traveled, and since I am an "experienced" hiker, we gave ourselves a goal of 3.5 hours.

About being an "experienced" hiker: because of the outdoor experiences I've had - Alaska, years of Boy Scouts, etc. - I should know the tricks of the trade. That's the idea. And I can pack light, I can lace up my boots blindfolded. I know a thousand different uses for a bandana. I can cook a hot meal in a flash from a bunch of dried flakes - with an impressive mastery of that capricious little tinfoil beast, the camp stove. So that's experience.

All this is to say, about halfway up this climb (hour 3 already), I'm beginning to wonder - what kind of experience keeps you from breaking you ankle in the Godforsaken Andean wilderness? How does climbing one mountain help me not fall off of the next one? Are there snakes up here?

It's a great hike, and the views kept me going. On one side, "The Horns of the Devil". On the other side, the beautiful Lago Gutierrez. At every break in the trees, it became clearer: yep, we are in the Andes. They are so much more violent and pointy than the ancient Appalachians I am used to. These are the real thing, in all their huge and snow-capped glory.

Anyway, I think what happened was , we were so excited to get up there, we started off a little fast. By halfway we were breathing a little (a lot) harder, and of course, allowing the appropriate time for the views. Every once in a while, as we wheezed up the trail, an older lady with a walking stick in sandals would pass us on the way down with a smile and an "Hola". An trail runner in his 50s (Philip) zoomed past us with barely a glance, holding only his water bottle. (Who are these people? Don't they know this is a 4 hour hike?)

We finally came to a stretch through the trees and saw the Refugio Frey on a peak ahead. You have to gasp when you first see this accoutremented cabin up here in the middle of nowhere. Civilization just won't quit. Somebody actually built this thing, way back in the 40s, without chainsaws or helicopters. And its got a kitchen - with running water!

It's cool to think about, and its nice to look at from a distance, but its not what I want from my wilderness. It was merely the area of our destination. We brought a tent.

We crossed a creek and the view was amazing and that last kilometer was one of out-of-body experience tiredness, when it's more efficient to count the non-sore spots. We finally rose above the rocks to see the picturesque cabin with its lake and mountain view, and there, at the top, is a mess of backpacks and people and chatter. There's a group of high school kids running around, or braiding eachother's hair. The group leaders laugh and discuss the day's hike. Right in front of us is a bunch of little kids giddily playing cards around a big rock. I'm talking cub scouts.

It's summer in Argentina! But I wasn't bothered - it was a great scene up there. And really, it's their mountain. I'm just visiting.

The next two days were equally beautiful, comparatively more peaceful, and we seemed to get in better shape as we continued. There are too many details to tell - lots of talks with fellow hikers, great views, and a little hitchiking at the end of the long trail, first with a couple of college students from Buenos Aires, then on a Greyhound that happened to be empty at the time. Great people. Of all my encounters with strangers since my first day at the airport, I've found that these Argentines are great, kind, welcoming people.

And now for some pictures that can really tell the story:





Refugio Frey




















Photos 1 and 2 by Ben Paschal











































P.S. Yesterday I saw the most American thing I've ever seen in my life. I was at this mall in Bariloche called "El Shopping", and this fast food joint was selling a loaded cheeseburger - but instead of buns around the meat it had two dripping-hot CHEESE PIZZAS. Brilliant.