picture preview

I am slowly getting all the pictures online. Between the two of us, we ended up creating 2 GB worth of photos. Selecting through all those will take quite some time, but for my loyal blog readers, here’s a sneak preview. In fact, I encourage you to peruse them now, so that when I do send out my next mass email, my server won’t get hammered by *everyone* looking at *every* picture — you’ll already have seen the majority.

  • http://www.chizang.net/alex/gallery/buenos_aires — We stayed in Buenos Aires for a few sultry days, hung out with our friend Rob Knapik, ate a huge steak meal, and partied til sunrise with some newly made porte�o friends.
  • http://www.chizang.net/alex/gallery/cementario_recoleta — On an overcast day, Jules and I visited the Cementario de la Recoleta, the place where many of Argentina’s elite are buried. We saw some beautiful stained glass, Evita’s tomb, and a lot of cats, among other things.
  • http://www.chizang.net/alex/gallery/perito_moreno — One of the few advancing (or at least non-receding) glaciers in the world, we weren’t even planning on seeing this sight. However, after Jules sprained her ankle, we decided this would be a fun thing to go see, as it didn’t involve any walking. Turned out to be pretty damn cool.
  • http://www.chizang.net/alex/gallery/fitzroy — Parque Nacional Los Glaciares, our first trek. There are pleny of famous climbing mountains here, such as Cerro Torre and Monte Fitz Roy. Jules’ ankle was still busticated so I ended up with a super-heavy pack
  • http://www.chizang.net/alex/gallery/torres_del_paine — Jules and I did the shorter 5-day “W” circuit in el Parque Nacional Torres del Paine, famous for both los Torres and los Cuernos (horns). Getting up at 5 AM to make the 45 minute hike up to the Torres mirador (lookout) was well worth the effort.

So that’s the bulk of the pictures. Still missing are my shots from Tierra del Fuego and a few photo essays. Look for those in the coming days.


Friends, family, other sundry folk —

This email is brought to you by the letters “U”, “S”, and “A”.
That’s right, I’m writing from Stateside right now, having
survived a rather hectic six straight days of travel.

I’d like to write a brilliantly funny and coherent email. Alas,
that’s a bit beyond my mental capacity right now. Plus, I
finished reading Don DeLilo’s “White Noise” during my trip, and
now my brain is polluted with postmodernism. (btw, for those of
you out there looking for a new book to read, I *highly*
recommend it. Hard to describe, but for our generation, think of
a more intellectual version of Seinfeld in book form.)

So, a collection of a few disjointed thoughts is what you get.

First, thanks to all those who replied to my mails (and even more
thanks to those who told me they actually enjoyed them… ;).
Your travelling friends look forward to news from home (and for
those with fragile egos like me, they need to be constantly
reassured that they are missed). You might not get an (immediate)
reply (such is the limited time of a backpacker), but trust me,
they are much appreciated. So keep this thought in mind next time
someone you know embarks on a major journey.

Being home is odd at the moment. Things never really change much,
especially in a short a time as a single month. As I left the
airport today, I was immediately stuck on a traffic jam for 1/2
an hour on I-70. The absurd surreality was delicious, and made
me wonder if I’d just been in a dream for the past month. Only
two days ago, I was in Tierra del Fuego.

From the department of too much information… I had the pleasure
of taking my morning constitutional today on my flight from
Buenos Aires to O’Hare. Of course, in America, we simply toss our
toilet paper into the toilet. This is not the case in Argentina
(indeed, most of South America), where almost all toilets have a
small wastebasket next to the toilet to hold the used TP.
Somehow, watching the poo/tp combination get sucked into oblivion
and knowing that even our airplane toilets are stronger than the
plumbing of an entire *country* made me feel strangely patriotic.
It was all I could do to stop myself from screaming “U-S-A!
U-S-A!”. Trust me, this would not have gone over well at 5 AM on
an international flight. And from the department of *way* TMI, I
was the master of my own domain for an entire month. Beat that.
Seinfeld fans know what I mean. Everyone else will just have to
wonder what the hell I’m talking about.

By this time, Jules should be done with her 36 hour bus ride to
Bariloche. After spending a month in constant contact with a
single person, I can certainly feel a void right now. Let’s all
wish her “buen viaje” and “mucha suerte” in her travels.

Jules — I’ll miss you, kiddo.

Speaking of which, let me put one last plug in for my blog. If
you got added to my email list late in the game, or were left
wanting for more details than I provided and wanted to get Jules’
side of the story (since she did play by play and I was the color
man), you can read the archive of all the mails the two of us
sent back to our respective collective friends:


I do update the blog on a semi-regular basis, and in the next few
weeks or so, I’ll probably have some more thoughts on the trip
that weren’t worthy enough for mass email.

I’ve been blasting Radiohead throughout my house for the last
hour or so, and am realizing that I’m nattering on. So with that,
I’ll draw to a close. Thanks again for reading along. I hope you
had as much fun reading as I did writing.

This machine will
will not communicate these thoughts
And the strain I am under
Be a world child form a circle before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again

— from Street Spirit, by Radiohead

signing off,


royale sin queso

Okay, so tell me again about the hash bars.

Okay, what do you want to know?

Well, hash is legal over there, right?

Yeah, it’s legal, but it ain’t a hundred percent legal. Also,
you’re thinking of a different country, and we ain’t there. We’re
here, although I must admit that it was a clever way to let
our readers know that I’m about to rip off another piece of
American culture written by a far cleverer writer.

Word. Also, you’re nowhere near as good looking as Travolta.

I dig, baby, I dig. But you know what the funniest thing about
South America is?


It’s the little differences. A lotta the same shit we got here,
they got there, but a little different.


Alright, when you’re at a traffic light, the light changes to
yellow. And I don’t mean green-yellow-red either, although they
do that too. I’m talking about red-yellow-green.


And when you’re done taking a piss and you wanna wash your hands,
you got two knobs in front of you. One labeled “C” and one with
an “F”. Which one do you twist?

Well, I don’t know what the hell “F” is, so I’d use “C” for cold.

You do that, you’ll burn the fuck outta your hand. See, “C” stands
for “calor” which is “hot” and “F” is for “frio” which is “cold”.


Dig it, baby. Those cats got all sorts of weird abbreviations.
You’ll be driving down the highway and you’ll see all sorts of
signs, like Est., Pdte., and Gdor.


Well, Est. is short for Estancia, which is a big ol’ ranch. They
got tons of those down in Patagonia. And they seem to be in love
with their old leaders. Pdte. stands for Presidente and Gdor.
is for Gobernador.

Driving, eh? What kinda cars they got?

Alright, well most of them run on diesel seeing as how it’s only
75% the price of gasoline. And so you’ll see all sorts of crazy
shit that you ain’t never, but never, gonna see in the States.
Like a Ford Escort — the epitome of el cheapo American cars — that
runs on diesel.

A diesel Escort. Who’da thought.

Damn right. Not to mention all them Euro marques, like Renault,
Citroen, and Fiat.

What about all that mayonnaise I keep hearing about? They drown
their fuckin’ fries in that shit, man?

Yeah, but that ain’t all. Hot dogs too, which the Chilenos call
a “completo”. I seen ’em do it. They also got this weird shit
called “salsa golf” which is a blend of ketchup, mayo, and something
else I can’t tell.


Them cats is weird about their food. Their ketchup tastes like it’s
got about a pound of sugar added. And when you buy fruits and veggies
at the supermarket, there’s a separate register right by the produce
section where you bring the shit you got picked out, and some dude
puts prices on them for you, but you still pay up front at the
cash registers.


All the markets are full liquor stores too. They got beer, wine,
and liquor just sitting out on the shelves. And I ain’t talking
no Popov plastic bottle vodka shit neither. You can get a full on
bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin, though it’ll cost ya a peso or two,
if you can dig. And you know what they call a Diet Coke?

They don’t call it a Diet Coke?

No, they got the metric system there. But more importantly, they
speak Spanish — they wouldn’t know what the fuck a “diet” is.

What’d they call it?

They call it a Coke Light.

Coke Light. Doesn’t have quite the same ring as a Royale with Cheese,
but I guess it makes sense. What’d they call a regular Coke?

A Coke’s a Coke, but they call it “un Coca-Cola”.

Un Coca-cola! Hahahaha… What do they call a Pepsi?

I dunno man, I don’t drink that shit. Anyways, you ready?

Yeah, let’s git.

Word, baby. Word.

el fin del mundo

buenos dias, amigos!

get out yer globes and turn em upside down. yo tengo una cuenta de la semana
pasada… and it goes a lil somethin like this:

first, the bus from puerto natales to ushuaia: 15 horas, solo pampa. well,
we did take a ferry across the strait of magellan, landing us on la isla
tierra del fuego, but other than that, nothing much to see but the vast
grasslands, splattered with an occassional guanaco or �andu (a flightless
bird, much like the ostrich you all know and love). good times for sleeping,
if you can manage to drown out the noisy chatter of mobs of israelis and the
high decibel pre-programmed bus soundtrack of wailing chilenos and

but then we arrived in ushuaia, argentina, “el ciudad mas austral del
mundo.” the southernmost city in the world. yeah, that pointy part at the
bottom of the continent, just above that white blob that says “antarctica.”
if that’s not damn cool, i don’t know what is. i’ve come clear from 40
degrees north latitude to below 54 degrees south…. and that’s just
geography. more impressive is the topography, the rugged highly

metamorphosed fuegian andes, with their ancient beech forests dripping in
moss, brushing up against the freakin atlantic ocean. �que bonito, que
lindo, ushuaia! and the city is hot stuff, super clean and modern, all kinds
of flavor, glacier-spilling peaks arriba, a harbor full of quaint little
boats abajo. and the weather changes every five minutes, hace calor y
despues hace frio, con sol, viento, lluvia, nieve, todo en una dia…
actually, in many ways, quite comparable to alaska. but clear down here.

we travelled with a frenchie pal, pierre, who we met in puerto natales, and
after wandering around for awhile playing turistas, the three of us
commenced to a marathon 2-day trek in the vast range cerca del ciudad.
totally different than what we had experienced in the last two treks, remote
and wild–the lack of a developed trail and “famous” attractions reduced the
crowds to almost nil. que bueno. sure, we got lost plenty of times,
bushwhacking through bogs and mud and patagonian jungle, but we also got
some excellent vistas all to ourselves… a lofty cirque all full of glacier
(that we got up close and personal with), a gorgeous lago, eye-popping
turquoise hue, nestled below pyramid peaks, a surreal stony pass to navigate
in torrential wind and rain… and what could be more fun than cramming 3
people in a 2 person tent (guess who got to be in the middle)? “good times”
would be a major understatement…

thanks to pierre’s culinary inspiration, when we weren’t trekking, we ended
up cooking at the hostel kitchens every night and eating like champions (por
ejemplo, local pescado fresco con arroz y verduras, and postres perfectos,
like bananas flambe con chocolate y helado). we also whooped it up with some
of the locals (our friends at the hostel el jardin) on our last night in
town, which made it fun for alex and i to wake up at 5 am and catch our bus
back north the following morning… and even more fun once we hit the
serpentine highway and our driver, speed racer, was taking corners at warp
speed (the “no-puke challenge,” and we had some close calls). several bus
hours and two days later, we have returned to puerto natales, and ma�ana,
back to calafate, that legendary place where it all began…

and then, alex flies back to buenos aires and luego, los estados unidos on
the 28th. and what will become of jules? �quien sabe? stay tuned…

abrazos y besos, jules


ps, using a bit of imagination (and perhaps a few bottles of
wine) this mail will make sense. (hint: I’m upside down)


For now, chao from the land of fire.

Like all good things, though, it must come to an end. Tomorrow, I
begin a multi-day sprint back to Buenos Aires so that I can catch
my return flight back State-side, so if you don’t hear from me in
the next few days, it’s because I’ll be spending hours upon hours
on various buses and border crossings.

By all measures, I’m having the time of my life.

We spent the past few days trekking in the Fuegian wilderness
with our new Gallic friend Pierre, dealing with, among other
things, an over-friendly stray dog, three people in a two person
tent, missing camp sites, fickle weather, absolute solitude,
extravagant meals prepared in the hostel, chocolate beyond
belief, mad rush of souvenier buying, dropping $50 on postcards,
and the like.

The past few days have been idyllic and amazing. The scenery here
is ridiculous, what with the mountains coming right down to the
sea, and the weather changing more often than Britney’s marital

This mail is going to be rather abbreviated because my time here
is short, but regardless, I wanted to write and say hello from
Tierra del Fuego, or as the local nomenclature would have it, el
fin del mundo. For the non-castellano speakers out there, that
would be the end of the world.

�Hola todos!


blood red blooms blushing
chilean fire bush flares
fireworks on stems

gusty blustery
patagonian winds rage
still 10 K from camp

batholith towers
light and clouds swirl all about
nature’s lava lamp

shy picturesque beasts
where are all the guanacos
postcard it is, then

enough indulgence
haikus are cute but get old
“priceless” ads work too

Backpack rain cover: $20
Gore-Tex rain shell and pants: $350
Not using either during entire Patagonia trip: priceless

el cheapo Timex watch (with alarm): $12
Petzl Tikka headlamp: $25
Predawn hike to gawk at gloriously glowing Torres del Paine
at sunup: priceless

Iodine tablets: $2
Pur brand water filter: $60
Ignoring them and drinking directly from sparkling pristine
glacial-fed streams: priceless

Blistex “herbal” chapstick: $1.50
Nivea moisturizing lotion: $6
Needing both after a lazy afternoon nap in an alpine cirque under a
blazing Patagonian sun: priceless

One liter of Chilean shampoo: $1000 Chilean pesos
One pair of Ronaldi361o-brand flip-flops: $6000 Chilean pesos
Having to replace “comfort” items left behind in another city because
while on vacation, your schedule is subject to your whimsy and
you feel like ignoring your itinerary: priceless

Bag of quick camping rice: $6 Argentine pesos
A few leftover balls of Argentine angel hair pasta: questionable value
Combining them with a few scraggly vegetables and splitting a huge
pot of camping starch-mush with one of your better friends in the world
after a long 24K hike, ignoring all the accoutrements and annoyances
of Valentine’s day back in the states: priceless (the guys out there
reading this know what I’m talking about)

1.5 Liters of Chilean Cabernet-Sauvignon: $1500 Chilean pesos
Kicking in your share of the meat cost: $2500 Chilean pesos
Learning how to grill lamb, chicken, and beef, Patagonian style from
an Argentine with gaucho roots: priceless

Somewhat upscale Chilean dinner: $20,000 Chilean pesos
Shots of cucarachas: $1800 Chilean pesos (each)
Puking it all back up after too many of said cucarachas
(and many other drinks) shared with new Chilean and American
friends: priceless
Finding out the next day that Jules puked three times: priceless x 3

One hour of internet use: $700 Chilean pesos
Typical postcard: $300 Chilean pesos
Having to buy 25 postcards and promising to mail them from
Tierra del Fuego because you bribed your friends to email you: priceless

In some emails, there is narrative. For everything else, there is
ripped off content from the advertising campaign of a huge
multi-national that has permeated our brains and is good for a cheap
laugh or two without much effort on my part.



1: a picture of some Chilean fire bush:

2: Argentinan pasta comes in these strange balls of dried pasta that unravel
as you cook them

3: Thanks for your emails! I will respond to all of them (eventually).

4: Our 12 hour bus ride to Tierra del Fuego begins tomorrow.

la vida buena…

From guest blogger Jules:

(advance apologies for the length of this email, but i don’t skimp on the
details, people)

?hola chicos!

bienvenidos a the continuing saga de “la aventura excelente de jules y
alex.” strap yourselves down and get ready to partake in the journey,
wherein we venture further south, get a new stamp en our ole pasaportes,
spend well over 100,000 pesos apiece in the space of just a few days, feed
our budding addiction to the nectar de durazno (peach juice, mmmmm),
befriend heaps of crazy travellers and trekkers, indulge in some wicked
potent alcoholic concoctions and later pay the price, gaze upon the most
awe-inspiring vistas en todo el mundo, and i meet the tiniest dog of my
life… ?listos? ?vamanos!

despues de fitzroy, we rambled southward from calafate, argentina to puerto
natales, chile, by bus. we commenced to exploring los calles de puerto
natales, along with the herds of stray dogs running in packs–perros de
muchos tipos y talles, some big, some small, some really really small. once
in chile, we had the great amusement to withdraw currency of mind-blowing
denominations from the local atm, as the exchange rate and standard price of
things here is different than that in argentina. we get 550 chilean pesos
for $1 (versus about 3 argentine pesos per dollar), which sounds like a lot,
but then a piece of fruit may cost 200 pesos, our hostel stay cost 5000
pesos por noche, and a pair of stylin’ puma shoes (?que rico!) will set you
back 30000 or 40000 pesos… regardless, we were feeling mighty rich walking
around with 10000-peso bills in our pockets! as we journeyed about town,
many of the shops had stereos out in the street, pumping out the beats, and
it was great to hear so much music… la musica es como miel in mis orejas.
el sabor diferente (the different flavor) de chile was a truly refreshing
change from our base camp in calafate…

after sometime, we stumbled upon a quirky-but-comfy little hostel run by 2
mellow, down-to-earth, friendly characters, and caught some z’s on their
sunken-in mattresses. the next morning we rose early and hopped a bus to el
parque nacional torres del paine, glimpsing guanacos (a cousin of the llama)
y flamingos hanging out around the lakes. immediately, the rich matrix of
the landscape captured mi corazon, from the imposing black-on-white rock
faces, to the blue glacial ice spilling out of the high basins, to the
prickly green and yellow pincushions of the shrubs carpeting the hillsides,
to the intense turquoise lakes… ?que magnifico!

after a boat ride deposited us on the far shores of lago pehoe beneath the
impressive cuernos del paine mountain range, we strapped on our mochilas
(backpacks) grandes and hit the trail, which took us along the rim of a
gargantuan glacial valley above a monster lago verde, all the way to the
terminus of massive glaciar grey. we camped there beneath the glacier on the
black sandy beach, in close proximity to gobs of other trekkers (as in
fitzroy), all speaking in native tongues, spread out upon the beach like a
smorgasboard of flavors in an international buffet… a wienerschnitzel
here, a spring roll there, haggus next door to us, and a huge gang of
british youths, talking all tea-and-crumpets at the top of their lungs. in
many ways, a pretty cool scene, but then again it takes awhile for everyone
to pipe down at the end of the night, so sleeping can be a challenge…

the following day, despite being throttled by the elements (el sol y el
viento fuertisimo) we missioned it a good 20 km or so, to another camp at
the base of the spectacular valle de frances, which we lazily explored on
day three. we hiked up through beech forest, past small glaciers and a
roaring rio, into an unbelievable cirque, and kicked back to revel in the
360 degree panorama of majestic mountains, impressive towers, horns, and
aretes–this ridiculous skyline, totally vast and wonderful, surrounding us.
the vista was enough to break your mind, almost too large to take in. later,
as we chilled in camp, we met a fine group of 3 chilenos and 2 chicas de
norteamericano, and shared some comida and a box of red wine. day four was
another trek-til-you-drop kind of day, as we made our way from the plateau
below the cuernos, weaving over alluvial fans and up and down deep creek
channels, into the next valley, where we endured a *grueling* climb above
the powerful rio ascensio gorge to bring us within reach of the legendary
torres del paine. we camped below them on a small forested ledge and prayed
for good weather in the morning, when we hoped for a chance to gawk at the
torres, our grand finale for day five…

of course, when your alarm goes off at 5:30 am, you think, oh how i just
want to be lazy, its dark and cold out there, its soft and warm and sleepy
en mi bolsa de dormir… but then you reach deep down in your guts and pull
out something, sheer will, and pry yourself up and start walking (well,
stumbling), into the wind, your headlamp guiding the way up a faint trail in
a sea of massive talus boulders. and then, after climbing and climbing, you
are there, and the sunrise is just beginning, casting a surreal red glow on
some of the most brilliant towers of rock on the planet, and right there
before your eyes las piedras increibles son en fuego, and its almost too
beautiful to comprehend. pure unequivocal awe, amazement, thankfulness, a
moment when all your sweat and pain and arduous footwork is more than worth

the torres at sunrise were quite a special sight, and afterwards, we boogied
down, down, down, mas abajo towards the exit point at the valley bottom,
where we reconvened with 2 chicas de nebraska we met along the trail. we
planned to celebrate the completion of our treks in style back in puerto
natales, after some long-awaited, much-needed duchas (showers) at our
respective hostels. by chance, we also met up with our other friends back in
town, and invited them along as well, to an intriguing local watering hole,
“el bar de ruperto.” our group was muy divertido, conversations in several
languages, and a bilingual rendition of “cumplea?os feliz” para jose (un
amigo chileno). after enjoying mucho vino, “chanchos,” and some local beers,
our curiosity was piqued by some of the bebidas misteriosas (mystery shots)
on the menu… especialmente “las cucarachas,” que tienen tequila, brandy, y
ron, y estan en fuego (we didn’t realize how many potent alcohols were
involved until it was too late). of course we were quite enamored with the
fact that these drinks were on fire, and joyfully tossed a few rounds
back… next thing i knew, the bar was spinning, or was i? this is when the
events become fuzzy… en el ba?o, i put my face in the toilet and let ‘er
rip, how you say, “?? toss the cookies?!” ?vomitar! yo vomite tres vezes…
and was escorted safely back by mis amigos nuevos to the hostel to pass out
for good (by the way, i wasn’t the only one to lose it after the
cucarachas… apparently after i departed, one of the chilenos hurled big,
four times, right there in the bar). just for the record, a hangover feels
just as good south of the equator as it does at home. but it sure was a fun
time, eh! ?viva la fiesta!, en todos los dias.

and now, with clean laundry, a fresh outlook, and a fine new buddy (pierre,
de frances) we are en route by bus to ushuaia, argentina, tierra del
fuego–el fin del mundo. tonight, we stay in punta arenas, chile, and
tomorrow, a long bus trip (12+ horas), across a great canal by ferry, and
we’ll be at the very bottom of the continent, hopefully to do some trekking,
eat some king crab, see some penguins, and revel in endless daylight hours
(already, we have been getting a good 15 hours or so of sol every day, not
too shabby). so, i’ll be sending home to all of you, my dear friends, some
good vibes from as far south as one can get (unless you can make the spendy
voyage to antarctica… brrrrrr). i hope you are all quite well and doing
fun things wherever you might be, and i think of each of you along my way.
thanks for your emails, it warms mi corazon to feel your love from clear
across the globe. salud y buena suerte, todos!

mucho amor,

I know you’re out there, I can hear you breathing

�Oye todos!

Short mail for now (more to come later), but the precis (that
would be French for “summary”, proving that I did pay attention
in high school) is that we just returned from trekking around in
los Torres del Paine.

In a word: more frickin’ awesome than sharks with frickin’ laser
beams on their heads (or dogs that when they bark, bees shoot out
of their mouths for that matter).

(ok, more than a word, but I exaggerate a lot; you should be used
to this by now)

But that’s neither here nor there. The plan now is to head down
to Tierra del Fuego, which is that pointy bit on the southern end
of South America. And thus, we have a nice segue into the main
point of this short notice which is this:

If you want a post card from the end of the world, reply back
with your snail mail address. (If you’re lucky, you might even
get a personalized response rather than the generic “You wish you
were here, don’t you” that I plan on copying multiple times (ok,
just kidding, but you get the point)).



ps, in case you were wondering, yes, this is also part of my
secret plan to trick you into replying back to some of my emails.
Write back people! Email works in both directions, ya know? :)

Budget Koan’s Diary

Budget Koan�s Diary

Friday 4 February
* Pack weight 3.8 stones (terrible!), blister units 0
(excellent), kilometres 9.5 (v.g)
* What is the sound of one foot hobbling?
* Wherein our two heroes experience photographic blue balls

Arrived at Campomento De Agostini today, where we pitched our
tent within arm’s reach of some nearby Chilenos. Jules’ ankle
seemed to hold up just fine underneath several layers of zinc
oxide and neoprene ankle brace.

We wandered up towards Laguna Torre to try and catch a glimpse of
Cerro Torre, but it was for naught, as the spire was enshrouded
in a dingy tattered shawl of grey cloud cover.

The following morning was slightly better, as we got to see most
of the mountain, although maddeningly, seeming never all at once.
Like the cover of an imported Swedish smut video with black dots
placed in all the strategic places, clouds seemed to dance around
the summit of the Torre in various positions and conniptions for
the hour or so we were there. I haven’t felt this frustrated
since making out with my high school girlfriend.

Saturday 5 February
* Pack weight 3.6 stones (this degree of obesity is shocking,
really), blister units 1 developing (unfortunate), kilometres 8 (v.g)
* If a Chino jumps nekkid into a lake and there is *everyone*
around, will anyone say anything?

Arrived at Campomento Poincenot today, again camping within
spitting distance of other eager turistas. The camping situation
is a mixed bag — drinking directly from the rivers is a great
gobs of fun, but being piled atop your neighbor is a tad much.
Still, I�d take it over a sharp stick to the eye any day.


Sunday 6 February
* Wherein our two heroes savour a rest day and don’t do much of
anything other than checking out some lovely glacial lakes.

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Monday 7 February
* Pack weight 3.2 stones (much better!), blister units 2
(persistent bastards), kilometres 11
* Does a private reserve next to a national park have a Buddha

The private Los Troncos refugio costs $14 pesos per person per
night (vs free for the national park) but makes up for it with
the charming feature of allowing you to pitch your tent in a lawn
covered in dried horse shit.

Tuesday 8 February
* Wherein our two heroes learn the proper usage of a certain
filthy word
* And then are rescued by the French

Woke up early this morning in order to hike out and catch a
view of the back side of Monte Fitz Roy. The three Israelis
camped 7 feet away decided to wake up early as well presumably to
hike out to Cerro Electrico. Apparently, they woke up the nice
Brits who were camped 3 feet away, so one of them poked his head
out of his tent and politely asked them to keep it down as they
were trying to sleep. The Israelis apologized and then continued
to talk at the exact same volume. A few seconds later, we heard
the Brit scream out from inside his tent, “IGNORANT C**TS!”
We later decided that you just haven’t heard that epithet used
correctly until you’ve heard a Brit scream it in a furious rage.

Hiking back to El Chalten via Ruta Provincial 23 was a dismal
prospect, especially after having to ford the Rio Blanco and
ending up with wet footwear. Luckily, after a few kilometres, we
were picked up by a friendly French family on holiday. Irony of
ironies, for once, I think that Frenchmen were offended by the
smell of Americans.

This email was brought to you by the letter Q and the country of
Chile (where we are currently located (Puerto Natales, that is),
before our next 5 day trek to see los Torres del Paine).



From guest blogger Jules:

hola todos,

over the past 5 days, we clambered across nearly 50 km of tierra salvaje y
silvestre, drank el agua fresca straight out of the streams, powered down
some steamin’ pots o hot dinner mush, and laid eyes on some of the more
stunning rock piles en todo el mundo. mi tobillo no es fuerte, pero es mas
mejor ahora. still a bit swollen and unsteady, but with a constant stream of
ibuprofena, an ace bandage, and dr. chiang’s mad crazy taping skills, she’s
good enough to trek on (barring any further mishaps). we had quite good
fortune with weather, and all in all our first trek was legendary…

at long last, we set off–a gimpy gringuita and an overladen
chino–remarkably without incident or accident, on a bus bound for el parque
nacional los glaciares. well, not so much a bus but a sauna-on-wheels. our
voyage of 4 hours over argentina’s finest gravel and cobble brought us to el
chalten, a teeny mountaineering outpost (i.e. crested butte cerca 1970)
nestled at the edge of a deeply gouged glacial valley below the lofty spires
of cerro fitz roy. we hopped off the bus and onto the trail, spending our
first night in a grove of lenga (beech trees) on the banks of a rushing
glacial river. the next morning, the veil of clouds was lifting off of cerro
torre, and we got a few good looks at the crazy spire of intricately
patterned granite–far f**kin out! we boogied (well, sort of half-boogie,
half-hobble) on down the trail, below monta�as and past dos lagos grandes,
to arrive at our next camp, below mighty fitz roy and its many satellite
peaks. the following day, we climbed around in the cirques below fitz roy,
gawking at blue blue glaciers, and enjoyed a lazy wander up a milky green
glacial rio. finally, we trekked to the far side of fitz roy, via another
spectacular glacial valley, and then back out to chalten, where we caught
the bus back to calafate. today we’re hanging out doing laundry and
re-supplying for our next adventure into torres del paine en chile.

some notes on the s. american trekking experience (granted my sample size es
solamente uno): hay muchas muchas backpackers, mostly from europe, and the
camping is communal-style. tents upon tents upon tents, within centimeters
of each other. anywhere from 50-100 personas, pero un latreno. mighty
pleasant. some of the trails are desperately in need of work, but it was
good to hear the park “rangers” preaching the leave no trace ethic… we
were surprised to hear the rangers advising us to drink unfiltered
streamwater, but then again we were at the headwaters themselves, and
handily, there’s no giardia in these parts (like new zealand). of course,
the scenario is a bit tenuous, what with the amount of human
traffic–requires the complete cooperation of visitors not to bathe, do
dishes, or shit in the waterways. most people seem to be respectful of the
commons, but all it takes is “that one guy” to get everybody downstream
sick… anyhow, here’s hoping people are still drinking out of the rivers
here many years from now.

even after spending several days in a tent together, alex and i are getting
along alright so far (he’s been a hell of a trooper dealing with my bunk
ankle). but we now refer to him as “daisy.” i guess i tend to forego luxury
items such as deoderant on longer backpacking trips, but at one point, the
subject of b.o. was raised, and he remarked, “yeah, borrow my deoderant, you
REEK! but not me, i smell fresh as a daisy!” what!? true, i’ve smelled
worse, but *everybody* has an odor after that much physical exertion, and an
entire fleet of fruity-scented products can’t take that away. sorry, daisy,
you can’t get away with comments about how yer shit don’t stink (though i
confess, i did enjoy exfoliating once or twice with his biore facial wipes).

well, there’s much more i could go on about, but its quite late and we have
an early bus tomorrow, and frankly i’ve gone on long enough. hope you all
are well, gracias para su communicacion, i love hearing from everyone how
its going. i promise i’ll get back to each of you before too long (next rest
day). i miss you, i love you, take care until next time…

abrazos y besos, jules