And so it began

And so as I finish my umpteenth cup of Nescafe's finest instant blend, I'm moved to write. Apologies if some of the language feels a tad turgid, medieval even... we're trekking through Chilean and Argentinian Patagonia which is more or less Lord of the Rings country and post finishing the Hobbit, I'm now waist deep in Game of Thrones and fancy becoming a knight of the realm.

The last two months or so have been a blast. There was Italy (food and coffee under the warm Tuscan sun and the bustle of Cinque Terra before it got hit by storms), LA (teriyaki turkey jerky, root beer floats, an excellent host in Claire and poolside lazing in Palm Spings), NZ (winning the Rugby World Cup, family and a fierce sun) and Aussie (one fine wedding indeed). But I'll spare you some of the beginnings for later and jump into South America.


And so it was to Buenos Aires where, hit by jetlag and the trappings of corner hostel situated on the intersection of a five lane arterial route into the city and its cousin traversing the city north, we spent the first 30 hours sleeping, dozing, searching vainly under the bed for lost earplugs, watching dubbed 80s movies through one eye and sleeping fitfully some more. However, one becomes accustomed to all sorts of things and after four days of fitful sleeps, the cacophony outside our window eventually felt peaceful, almost welcoming in a perverse way.

The nest two weeks were a haze of pastry, countless cups of sour coffee and many cuts of steak. Spanish school was a blast although the verb 'to apply make-up' is sadly much of the whole of what I took away from two week's lessons. We walked the streets of BA's antiquated barrio of San Telmo taking in the sights and sounds of its bustling market, dipped our toes into rough ol´ La Boca one night for gigantic portions of pasta and beat a hasty retreat, my ironed chinos glistening under the poor light of the motorway underpass. We walked the boutiques and coffee'd and cake'd with the trendy-set in Palermo and watched the gentrified pensioners take their morning coffee in Recoleta over what we thought was BA`s finest media luna (sweet and small buttery croissant with a glaze of sugar syrup).

We chanced upon friends and celebrated a birthday over giant rump and fillet steak and took in a night of percussion and dancing at La Bomba del Tiempo in the Jewish barrio of Abasto - a 20 strong percussion group ripping out salsas, rumbas, reggae and the rest, who needs a tune? A drummer's delight. The gelato was superb, the empanadas magnificent and all around us the hot and humid beginnings of Summer sat heavily over the roar of this dirty but passionate city. Loved it, but nature called.
 
So to Patagonia, the Chilean side first for a five day hike in the Torres del Paine and then to El Chalten for hiking amongst the grand giants in the Fitzroy mountain range. Trekkers we are not and Patagonia's notoriously changeable weather was foremost on our minds, so we approached five days roughing it with some trepidation. However, the rain stayed away and the snows of a week before held to clouds that never appeared. Blisteringly hot sun and generally calm weather saw us through some 58kms of utterly spectacular scenery. We saw glaciers, both hanging and whatever the other one is, and many avalanches as the sun thawed the frozen rivers. Condors circled overhead and we got mad keen on spotting Porcelain Orchids. 

We met scientists hailing from Guildford on their way back home from six months in NZ pulling together a PHD on recently discovered underwater volcanoes off the north eastern coast of NZ. We met a randy bunch of Italian pensioners who took a shining to Kate and soured when I entered the room, of course the Germans and French were out in abundance, the English and Americans hit the booze most nights and the dulcet tones of kiwis could often be heard above the bird calls. And we got through it largely injury free, save for the night when Kate and I helped translate a ranger's instructions to an unconscious Swiss-French lady who fell out of her top bunk.

The Fitzroy ranges in Argentina were next and they were a grand spectacle. Like a giant's rotten underbite, these towers of wind hewn rock were a sight and we´ve spent the past three days trekking around their base, utterly mesmerised by the immensity of Patagonia's natural beauty - the pictures do neither of these two places justice.