El Calafate

I think I fell in love. He’s pretty hard, cold and certainly a lot older than me but I couldn’t take my eyes off of this glacier. Completely awesome – there are no words to describe it but I will give it a go of course (I think that is the idea of a blog anyway).

We tried to sneak into the (loosely translated) Glaciers National Park before day break – yes, that is right, a national park full of glaciers, eat your heart out South Downs! So getting up at 4am we sped away in our hire car along the bumpy earth track by moonlight dodging hares on the way (apart from one, apologies Mr Hare).

Arriving nice and early we were disappointed to find that contrary to popular legend, the guard does indeed wait at all hours at the gate and there was no way to enter with the hire car. Pulling back away we tried to creep past the guard by foot pink panther style through the trees but frozen lakes, semi-darkness, an additional guard house and freezing temperatures made it more than a little difficult. Fortunately the park opened early and we were the first and only ones in! Getting up early does have its advantages occassionally.

Cruising along the winding 10km more of road we were relieved we hadn’t tried to walk it and started to get excited at the indicators of what was to come – lonely large chunks of ice drifting in the placid milky blue waters created quite a bit of anticipation.

And then there we were: running down the ramps in the semi-light like excited children; and then there it was…

staring straight back: the solid, cold, glistening high wall of blue and white ice stood firmly in its place smack bang in front of you, tearing through huge mountains either side on its way. Above the hard block you can see icy peaks sharply jutting out, piercing the sky. Beyond that thousands and thousands of peaks create a tangled, intricate ice cathedral. A few holes in the wall allow you a privileged peek into the deep caverns of the glacier, but hollow blue nothingness is all that you can see.

As the sun rose you could hear the glacier creak and groan, large chunks of ice plummeting to the water in thunderous grumbles and ear-piercing cracks of ice. Huge bulbs of ice rumbled under the floating glacier and forced their way out underneath thrusting themselves up to water level, creating an enormous splash. Floating iceburgs slowly bob in the water moving higher and higher until, overloaded on one side, they flip over exposing new rounded blue side which has spent years waiting for its chance to see the sunlight again. Completely phenomenal.

I sat entranced for hours just watching. Unable to lose it from my sight. After six hours, Jim finally tore me away kicking and screaming. I am still a little bit heartbroken...

Only half an hour down the road in the other direction we landed upon a beautiful estancia overlooking an utterly different landscape with dry, flat plains of purples, reds, yellows and browns set against the turquiose lake, snowcapped mountains and bright blue sky.

We stopped at the ranch to drink coffee with the gauchos and eat fantastic lamb empanadas while looking just as open-mouthed at the gorgeous colours of the landscape.

Patagonia was all I had imagined it to be and more.