Thawing out, Punta del Este, Uruguay

After our chilly southern adventures, we needed a place to relax and thaw out. So, we headed north to Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina, and hopped on a morning ferry to Montevideo, the capital of neighboring Uruguay. Then, a short bus ride later and we were in Punta del Este, an upscale, but absolutely beautiful beach town. This is thee place for anyone who is anyone. All the Argentine stars come here for vacation (or so I have read in the Argentinean equivalent of People Magazine, called “Caras”). So, the beach actually has more rich Argentineans than it does Uruguayans, but it was hard to tell who was who. We did discover one clue as to people’s nationality, though. While both Uruguayans and Argentineans love drinking sherba mate, a bitter tea, the Uruguayans are more likely to carry a mate gorde and water thermos with them everywhere, including the beach. Thus, the Uruguayans sucked down hot tea on the beach. Sounds refreshing. I think I’ll stick to a nice cold beer.

A perfect lead-in to say that during our stay in Punta del Este we enjoyed the local brew, Patricia, ate tasty meals, bought helado at every corner, rented an umbrella, walked the beach, lathered our pasty bodies with sunscreen which acted as a glue for all the fine white beach sand, got stuck talking to a wannabe hippie-poet-filmmaker who gave us an unsolicited history lesson on Uruguay, slept in the cheapest room possible that came complete with one cute girl and 5 gross, snoring, stinky, backpacker dudes who thought it imperative to sleep in their boxers with their guts hanging out, saw an amazing 20 minute fireworks display that happens only twice a year, and generally had a merry time.

I wish I could adequately convey the hilarious story of our oddest roommate, an Argentinean dude affectionately dubbed Meatball, who wore a thong to bed on the first night and snored constantly. One afternoon, while getting ready to take a nap, he was having a serious conversation with us about going (insert English with a Spanish accent here) “to a bbq with my sister, my sister’s husband, and the friend of my sister,” and proceeded to tear off his shirt, mid-sentence, to reveal a gigantic, hairy belly. Suffice it to say that Jenny actually started laughing audibly while he was in mid-sentence because the moment was so absurd and socially awkward. We were, however, grateful as this was one of the more humorous highlights of the trip. Thank you Meatball for the hearty laughs.

Aside from viewing plentiful bellies, much of our time was spent trying to figure out what sort of internal clock made these people tick, for both Uruguayans and Argentineans stay up until 4, 5, 6 am, hit the beach by 9 or 10 am, exercise around 7 or 8pm, start eating dinner at 10pm, and head to the bars and dance clubs around 3am. I guess they believe they’ll sleep in the next life.

Jenny and I ran around in our little sundresses like every other chick in that town, and walked up and down the beach just like the 16 year old pre-Madonnas from the rich Uruguayan and Argentinean families. Jenny lied about her age, telling everyone she was 22, and I in turn said I was her 30 year old personal assistant. The place was top-notch. I could have stayed in that town and eaten helado for the next year.


Jenny on the ferry to Montevideo.


Proof that we are in Uruguay.


Our hostel in Punta del Este.


Definitely an Uruguayan as he's drinking mate on the beach.


A sailboat with 3 masts docked in the harbor, which seemed large...


...but was actually just a replica.


In my sundress headed to the boardwalk.


Sitting on the thumb of the second giant hand we encountered.


Patricia, the local brew.


Chugga-lug on the beach.


Umbreallas for rent.


Jenny carrying our morning coffee and medialunas.


A photo taken for Jesse. See, I do blend into the beach!


Jenny on a boardwalk bench at dusk.


A photo of sailboats in the harbor at dusk, taken for the Captain of my sailing adventures.

One Giant Ice Cube

If you haven’t noticed from the photos, southern Argentina and Chile were rather cool places. We broke out the down jackets daily. After our hike in Torres del Paine, we still hadn’t had our fill of cold weather. Since Jenny humored my request to hike Torres del Paine, I was obliged to visit Perito Moreno, a giant glacier just outside of El Calafate. Yes, all that ice was cold, but thank you, Jenny, for the motivation. The glacier was spectacular. I’ll simply give you the stats on the glacier, then you can view the photos and wish you had been there to see this big hunk of millennia-old frozen agua.

Perito Moreno glacier is 60 m high, moves 2 m a day – that’s over 6 feet – and see that mountain straight back in the photos – that’s 9 miles away! Can you imagine the amount of ice moving through this gorge?! Oh, and the ice goes 180 m under the surface of the water. Because the glacier moves 2 m a day, you can hear the ice popping and cracking, and every few minutes, huge chunks of the glacier fall off the leading edge and drop into Lago Argentina, making deep booming sounds that echo against the mountains. Magnificent! In a few of the photos you can see ripples in the water left from the falling ice chunks.

The giant glacier.


Closer view of the leading edge of the glacier.



And an even closer view.
Jenny on the boardwalk with Lago Argentina in the background.


A new boardwalk under construction.

Hiking Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

Torres del Paine. If you don’t know the name, you have certainly seen these famous “towers:” they can be found on almost any scenic calendar ever created from the US to Timbuktu (yes, that is actually a place). Three statuesque towers, brilliant red rock, a deep blue sky behind, sometimes a moon – those are Los Torres del Paine. Jenny humored my number one request for our trip, which was to see these infamous, mighty towers in person. So, after the flight to El Calafate and the bus ride to Puerto Natales, we jumped on yet another bus to Paine National Park. The ride to Paine was beautiful; vast, endless vistas, rocky mountains peppering the landscape, and Chilean cowboys herding cows and sheep with the help of 20+ dogs. After about an hour on the bus, we rounded a bend in the road and could finally see what we were getting ourselves into: Paine National Park came into view like a dark, ominous rock island jutting up from the soft, gentle landscape. Clouds clung to its highest reaches, and the black rock looked cold, sharp, and angry. Mouth agape, staring at this foreboding island of rock, I was reminded of my childhood days watching the cartoon He-man. This was Castle Greyskull come to life, the hideout of the ruthless Skeletor, and we were about to hike into its bowels.

When we actually got to the trailhead later that day, the sun was out, the clouds had dissipated, and the only major weather issue was the wind, which was intense. And, despite first appearances, Jenny and I got extremely lucky with the weather during our three day stay in the park. Many hikers make the long trip to see the towers but never actually get to see them. Weather fronts can hang around the mountains for two weeks at a time in the summer, making it impossible to see the towers through thick clouds.

After reaching the trailhead, we made the 4 hour trek to a primitive campsite. Because it stays light until 11pm in the summer at this high latitude, we had plenty of time to pitch our tent, explore the area, and plan our route to the towers the next morning. We also befriended the young park guard at the camping site, Alvaro, and practiced our Spanish.

Next came the part Jenny loved. On day two, at 3:44am, I woke her up to hike the 45 minutes up a boulder field in the dark to reach the towers. Although the hike got the blood pumping, it was beautiful – dark and mysterious, with the moon and stars shining. Using our headlamps, we were guided by the random reflecting tape the park staff put in place for all the fools trying to reach the towers before the first morning light (recall that we are VERY far south, it’s summer, and the days are insanely long, so one must get up early to beat the ever-punctual sun).

Jenny and I were the first to reach the “mirador,” or overlook, for the towers. We spent 10 beautiful, spiritual minutes communing with rocks 1,2, and 3 before the rest of the world arrived. We learned very quickly how sacred those moments were: once the global community arrived, including the Israelis, Germans, Chileans, Argentineans, Dutchovens, Swiss, Brits, and some random scatterings from other points on Earth, the serenity vanished. So, we snapped a few photos of the towers, the glacier, and the lake formed by the melting ice, and headed down the boulder field to nap in our little tent among the trees. The ten minutes we spent with the rock were worth the hike and the early wake up. This experience can be summed up in a few short words, depending on where you learned your Spanish: que chivo (El Salvador), que chevere (Ecuador), copado (Argentina). Cool. (Stateside).

Some photos from Torres del Paine:

Jenny taking a photo on our way to the National Park



A photo of me on the bus.


A photo of me just past the trialhead. We headed down trail you can see in the photo and then made a hard right turn up into the mountains beyond.




The view after hiking up into the mountains.



Petite Jenny with her not-so-tiny gear.


A photo of me battling the wind on the ridgeline.


A view down the valley. We walked along this valley for several hours before reaching the primitive campsite.


For those who can't handle the hike, there's always horseback.



Me at a glacier-fed river.



Self-portrait. Birding.



Scenery in the valley.


Jenny photographing mushrooms because.....





....fungus is to Jenny what dung beetles are to me.


Self-portrait at our campsite. It was chilly, but sunny.


Photo of us taken while scouting the best route to reach Los Torres before dawn.


Jenny lugged a bottle of the best red Argentine wine all the way up to our campsite so that we could get buzzed and take stupid photos like this one. She's a good friend!


The towers and me before first light.


Torres del Paine, the glacier below, and the glacier-fed lake. Beautiful place.


Closer view of Los Torres. Do you recognize them now?


Photo taken in the opposite direction from the towers. Dry, rocky landscape with very little vegetation.



Even though Los Torres were pretty, they were actually not very impressive in size.



Jenny applying copious amounts of sunscreen. This was essentially a training exercise in preparation for our next stop, the beach in Uruguay.

Our buddy Alvaro, the park guard, in front of his house. He was in charge of monitoring the campsite below Torres del Paine. A hip 24 year old from Santiago, Chile, Alvaro had loads of energy and every kind of tea you could want. Buena onda – literally meaning a “good wave,” but slang for “a cool dude that we liked.”

On our hike down from Los Torres, several young gauchos were bringing supplies to a small lodge. I snapped these two photos of the young horsemen.



Our second night in the park we spent in the valley. Here is Jenny prepping the tent.



Us drinking a hard-earned local brew.

On our last night in the park we took a long walk and snapped some photos of the landscape. First, a photo of Los Torres reflected in a duck pond.



Sunlight reflected on a mountain range to the east.


Me on the road with the towers in the background.



Sunset over Torres del Paine National Park.

Snag at dusk with the towers in the background.


And...the next morning...our last morning in the park, we went exploring. First, a picture of me on top of a hill.


Jenny with the giant mountains rising behind.


Our last morning in the park I found the nest of a Thorn-tailed Rayadito. This mom and pop pair were so curious they let me snap photos within 2 feet of the nest while they brought insect goodies to their youngsters.