Armpit hippies, camping and hiking in El Chalten

In our time of traveling, Chey and I developed the following theory:

Being a mind hippie isn't the same as being an armpit hippie.

Basically, a mind hippie is someone with a certain hippie-ish ideology. You wouldn't know unless you actually talked to that person.

Then there's people who think that, under the banner of hippieness and saying "pachamama" and wearing colorful pyjama-like pants, they can justify not showering ever again. They also tend to be annoyingly boastful about their lifestyle.

I talk about armpit hippies because they tend to migrate seasonally to certain places, and they were all around when we headed out of Calafate towards El Chalten (the popular hiking destination I was talking about in the last post). They are mostly seen lazily "hitchhiking" on the side of the road. If you would actually call the act of sitting on your backpack looking into the nothingness and expecting that someone will stop for you hitchhiking.

-that last bit is dedicated to my good friend Guido who says "the blog is fun but you complain a lot"-

As for us, we got to El Chalten with another private-tourist-driver, Luciano. A super nice guy who not only picked us up when we were hitching, but also stopped for us to take pictures and took pictures of us, told us a lot about the place (and the misteriously shiny and well fed stray dogs from Calafate), and dropped us at the door of a nice place to eat lunch.

A cute and slightly oversized stray dog in Calafate.

Our deluxe ride, and awesome driver (plus me)

The beautiful scenery on the road (and us, short sleeves for the first time in a long time!)

Signs of how far to...

Far.

Cerros Torre and Fitz Roy.

El Chalten was sunny and absolutely packed with tourists of all ages and walks of life (but mostly groups of israelis and armpit hippies). We found a beautiful and cheap camping ground, picked a good spot and pitched our tent to spend a couple of great days of camping and hiking.

Downtown El Chalten. 

Ridiculously coloured water.

Hiking.

The highlight of our time there was definitely the hike up to Laguna Torre, which has a gorgeous glacier.

 Hours of beautiful, lonely mountain trails, light blue colored water, and the stunning view of the Cerro Torre, which Chey couldn't stop taking pictures of (you can see why, right?).

The start of the hike up was right out of a Disney movie.

Happy Chey (you can notice the headphones, we decided to do the walk
with our iPods and switch on the way back. It was just lovely.)

The peaks of Cerro Torre.

First view of the glacier.

One of the series of "Adri going places"

The water is actually that color. It has some kind of mineral that makes it
perfect for rock skipping (shame we don't have a video of that, it was impressive).

Finally we arrived to the glacier. Even in the sun we could feel the icy wind coming from it. We saw bits of ice floating in the lagoon, breaking and floating down  the stream.

Glacier time!

Oversized ice cubes.

Note the QLD singlet.

Chey contemplating the glacier and thinking about the
big questions of life... like What kind of beer am I going to drink
when we get back to town?

 We just stayed there for a while taking in the view and then walked back to town, happy, hungry and thirsty for some celebratory beer. 

And celebratory pizza.

Little we knew that was going to be the last bit of relaxed time we were getting in a while.

More hitchhiking, and arch enemies

 Río Gallegos, like all the other towns starting with Rio in our story, is an ugly place. The one great thing it has is our friends Oscar and Tatiana, but we didn't have the time to stop and visit them, so that meant not much fun.

We had dinner at the only "fancy" place in town (because all the other places were meat havens) which was the British Club, and they gave the funniest looks at our shoes. We managed to get a pretty cheap dinner of pasta and salad while all the well-off locals stared at us as if we were something stuck on their shoes. That was fun.

After spending the night at the hotel, which was pretty nice by the way, we went straight to the road.

Looking for a nice hitching spot, we passed a hitchhiking family: mother, father and a kid that was probably under 5. A pretty odd sight. We walked past them, discussing questionable parenting,

Next thing we knew, a truck from Chile stopped. It was a man and his wife and little dog. The truck was super comfy, and they were awfully nice to us. The wife told us that since their kids became adults they started doing all the long trips together (dog included).

They asked all about us and our travels, and told us many stories of the road, including a scary accident they went through a few years ago when they fell off a bridge with the truck.

Sadly, they were going only to a close-by crossroads, so there we were dropped to wait for a second lift. Juana (the wife) gave us some lollies and scones for the road.

A happy truck.

We were aiming for El Chalten, the most popular hiking destination in Patagonia, and it was looking pretty close!

The weather was now considerably warmer, the wind much more tame, and the sun was showing here and there.

Daisies on the sunny road.

Chey waiting for a lift with the same elegant suit of comfy pants
and runners that got him so many looks at the Brit Club.

Me, same glamorous jacket, tights and crappy Converse as I wore for dinner
(no judging, fashion police! when hitchhiking sometimes you repeat outfits)

Countryside.

Who's there? Yes! El Gauchito Gil!

We quickly got a very silent hour-long lift with a father and daughter that clearly thought they were doing a good deed but were not interested in socializing with hippies like us (note: we're not hippies).

The next one was a car with two really nice guys coming back from partying in Rio Gallegos (we didn't know there was such thing), who gave us mate and played a copious amount of electronic-cumbia, which is even worse than normal cumbia.

This guys were going to El Calafate, so we asked to be dropped at the crossroads to El Chalten, where sweet innocent us hoped to get someone to take us the rest of the way (2 hours or so).

We had a big (and not good) surprise when we got off the car and saw not one, but two couples waiting at the same spot where we were supposed to stand. And pretty much instantly, another lonely hitchhiker joined the queue.

I had the happy idea of asking the people about their waiting time, and they said 3 hours. Three!

By that point, we were used to a waiting time shorter than 30 minutes, and being the only people standing on the side of the road. So this new scenario was not amusing.

Quickly we evaluated our situation: ominous storm clouds over us, a lot of competition, and a very, very lonely looking road. So we made the smart decision of turning back to the main road and hitch to El Calafate instead, where we could see a lot of cars were heading.

When we put our bags on the side of the road, another lonely hitchhiker walked to us from the crossroads. He was actually coming back from El Chalten, and going towards El Calafate; and as a decent person would do, he walked further down the road so we were the first people in line for the cars.

But then...things got messed up. Another couple (boy-girl couple) came off a car at the crossroads. They stood there, looking at us for a couple of minutes. Pink jacket, blue jacket.

She was telling him something, and he was shaking his head, and they kept looking at us, but finally she apparently convinced him of walking further up the road, before the roundabout and, outrageous, before us.

Chey and I were indignant, and couldn't stop mumbling things about people with no codes, and absolute indecency, but then it happened: Karma, in the shape of a fancy 4WD, came up from El Chalten and towards El Calafate (therefore pink and blue couldn't hitch to it because they were standing before the roundabout). The guy stopped for us, helped us put our bags in the back of the car, and we happily drove away when it was starting to rain, looking back at pink and blue and having many uncharitable thoughts.

Our lift was a private drive for wealthy tourists that was coming back from driving some ladies to El Chalten, and dropped us at the center of El Calafate. So much win.

The road of triumph and the clouds or karma.

Back North

Our last morning in Ushuaia we had a nice coffee and then took a taxi out of town (buses were not coming).

We got off by a service station and almost instantly were approached by a fervent christian. We noticed he was because he used the words "god" and "bless/ blessed/ blessing" a bit too often. He offered us to take us a few kilometres further North, but we politely declined because
  a)We were hoping for a better (longer) ride, and
  b)We both knew he was trying to convert us, and I get really itchy about people doing that.

We said goodbye to the guy and moved forward to stand after the police control.

If in some countries you want the police to not know you're hitching, in Argentina is pretty much the opposite: the best way to do it is after the police control: people slow down when they see the little  office, and in some places (like Ushuaia) they take your information so, in case you dissapear, your family know where was the last place where you were seen.

Nice thoughts people have about cops in Argentina.

As we were discussing the best strategy for that particular spot (with our thumbs out just in case), a truck stopped. Again, the first vehicle we hitched to.

The driver and his partner were nice and polite people from the North of the country. They moved slowly, talked slowly, and drove veeeeery slooooowly. They were also big fans of cumbia (a pretty vulgar, monotonous, Argentinian version of the colombian cumbia. with hideous repetitive rythm and awful sexist lyrics, sadly very popular).

Our cumbia enthusiast driver, going across the mountains.

It was a long ride, but the driver was very talkative, so that was good fun. Occasionally he would make his young partner participate of the conversation by asking him "Isn't that right, pelado?", to which pelado would answer by nodding silently (pelado means bald).

We made it back to a still boring Rio Grande, and spent the night at a different place, this time without a brick wall view. You can't have everything in life.

Chey entering Rio Grande in style.

The big trout.

The "stunning landscape photographer" of the group went for a walk.

In the morning, after an awesome breakfast, we had a long walk out of town to start hitching again.

The first decent breakfast at a cafe we got in Argentina.
It had scrambled eggs, toast, cream cheese, dulce de leche and
home-made jam, real orange juice, fruit salad, yogurt and muesli,

A beautiful day to be on the road.

We were quickly picked up by... a bus! That's why in general I hitch to every kind of vehicle, it's like a rule: you never know.

The bus driver wasn't going too far, but he took us to the bit of road after the police control, where they let me use the toilet.

 And as you know, after police control is a good place for hitchhikers.

After waiting for a bit, which wasn't too bad because it was starting to get less cold, we got our lift number twelve: Cristian, a guy from the centre of the country who was driving all the way back there. Some 1700 k he was planning to cover in two days.

The first bit was really relaxed. His car was very new and felt super smooth. We were comfortable, chatting and relaxing. We crossed the border into Chile with the ferry, which took a bit longer than usual, and then out of Chile again.

Nice, smooth feeling car.

Patagonian landscape (or sheep apocalypse?)

Gaucho, the Argentinian cowboy.

After the border crossing, our chilled driver got posessed by a speed demon. For the rest of the way to Rio Gallegos he drove at a steady speed of 180 km/h, getting both Chey and I very nervous.

I kept looking around for guanacos, since they usually decide to cross the road very randomly and cause loads of fatal accidents.

Luckily, we made it to Rio Gallegos in one piece, and decided to call it a day and stay at a hotel close to the road to continue adventuring next morning.

Sailing the Beagle Canal

Being in Ushuaia, even during summer, was fairly cold. So much more for us without proper cold weather gear.

Packing for a backpacking trip all over South America is a tricky task, because of variety. You'll want something for Patagonian wind, something for Amazonian jungle, something for hiking, something for going out without looking like a hobo (which you kind of will be, don't fool yourself), enough clothes to be able to not do laundry for a week if you can't... and everything inside one backpack that doesn't break your spine.

On top of all that add a tent, two sleeping bags+foam roll thingies, toiletries, books and electronics... and voilá! You have the reason why we have no cold weather gear.

Given that, we had to drop some very tempting ideas in Ushuaia: mountains were out of the question, and so was camping in the national park... still we had a wide range of options for things to do, but the most appealing was sailing the Beagle Canal on a very cute catamaran belonging to the company Tres Marias.

Tres Marias is a family business, and out of the people who do the Beagle Canal tour thing, they're the only one that has custody of Isla H, a gorgeous island that looks like an out of the planet landscape. They're also lovely and very dedicated.

Not a morning person, with not a morning dog,
waiting for our catamaran.

We woke up early in the morning and headed to the port, where we were promptly taken to our boat.

The views of the city are stunning from the beginning of the sailing, and you can be either inside or outside the boat.

Our very dedicated guy, and tourists properly dressed for the cold.

Panorama of Ushuaia.

Nerd on a boat.

Chey looking all chilled.

We took a ridiculous amount of pictures of the two first islands that we sailed around: Bird Island and Sea Lion Island. (Isla de los Pájaros & Isla de los Lobos Marinos).

Isla de los pájaros. Can you guess why they call it like that?

Isla de los lobos marinos.

The birds are mostly Cormorán, but there's also a wide variety of other birds living on it and flying around it.

Cormoranes!

The sea lions are so many. They honor their South American tradition by being a super macho society, where the biggest male gets more girls.

The males are funny, with big heads and small, sleepy eyes. They use noisy grunts to fight other males, and then just lay down again next to their harem girls.

The females are delicate like mermaids, and the babies are the cutest thing ever, and spend their day frolicking in the icy water, climbing the rocks and biting one another.

One romantic shot.

Sea lion showing off his massive "mane" of fat.

Sea lioness in wet and dry version.

Baby sea lions, playfully biting each other.

After seeing the cute animals, we sailed as far as the boats go, all the way to the beautiful Faro del Fin del Mundo (the lighthouse of the end of the world). There, Chey proved once more that he should be a photographer and we should be paid to travel the world.

Beautiful lighthouse.

On the way back we made a stop in Isla H, where we got off the boat with our guide, a funny native Ushuaian (?) who knows everything about the local nature... he introduced us to the different kinds of fruits, flowers, plants, lichen, algae, and small animals of the island (not too many animals though, in that hostile windy weather).

Landing on Isla H.

...

A very fluffy baby skua.

It was very windy.

Isla H

Nesting place of the cormoranes.

Baby cormorán.

We're actually holding on to each other not to be blown away by the wind.

The guide also talked about the native indigenous people of the south, the Yamanas. A wonderful tribe of strong, beautiful people who lived naked in the cold of Tierra del Fuego, spent pretty much all the time on ther canoes and were called by the Spanish invaders "the mightiest sailors in the world", because they were capable of mastering the wild waters of the southern ocean with those flimsy canoes.

He told us that the language of the Yamanas is practically dead, and there's only one woman left that speaks it, who's over 90 years old. Her children and grandchildren never learnt it, so when she dies the tongue of her people will die with her. That thought filled me with sadness.

After exploring Isla H, and feeling close to hypothermia, we went back to our boat, where coffee, dulce de leche liquor and alfajores were waiting for us. With happy and warm bellies, we went back to the mainland.

Before getting on our boat.

Arriving in Ushuaia again.

Emperor Meow was not that impressed.