Wandering the Cascades

Although we were in Argentina for quite a long time, we didn't make it up to the famous Iguazu Falls.  We were scolded for this oversight by fellow travelers, but our reasoning was simple: we didn't want to get on another bus for 20 hours just to spend one day in a park and drive right back! (After several 24+ hour bus rides, we definitely needed a break.)

While traveling in Croatia, several people we met told us that we had to go visit the Plitvice Lakes National Park in central Croatia, which was just a few hours from the city of Split. We decided that this was the perfect way to get our waterfall fix without the long bus rides. 

We've convinced ourselves that it was just as beautiful as Iguazu Falls is. (Yes, this is likely us rationalizing.) Plivitce Lakes National Park has hundreds, if not thousands, of waterfalls of all different shapes and sizes that trickle and splash their way into big turquoise lakes. We were there on a slightly rainy day in mid-May and we had the best kind of day: small crowds and high water from the rain.

I'm pretty sure that one day when I think back on this trip, I'll first think of the rickety bridges

A lingering bit of autumn

The lake was so high that the water sloshed through the cracks of the steps

Mouth of a limestone cave

Turquoise waters

Ferry boat that escorted us from one area of the park to another

If you're planning a trip to Croatia, definitely add Plivitice Lakes to your itinerary. The waterwalls were breathtaking, and the nature that surrounds the lakes is much different from what you'll see on the beaches of Dubrovnik or Split. Many people visit Plivitice as a day trip, but we stayed at a wonderful guesthouse in town and enjoyed the slower pace.

-R

Photo Tour: El Chaltén

When in Patagonia a few weeks ago, we lugged a large box filled with produce, beans, pasta and other food staples to El Chaltén. Fellow travelers warned us that it was nearly impossible to get reasonably priced food in the small village, so we entered town fully stocked. As these things go, the warnings about no food in El Chaltén were a bit of hyperbole.

But it's no exaggeration to say that El Chaltén is one of the tiniest towns I've ever been to. (This coming from a woman who lived in a town of 900 back in the day.) It's also brand new; the town wasn't even created until the 1980s. It's definitely developing now, though. It seemed that there was new construction going on in every street.

Tiny little village between the mountains

The town itself is quaint and quiet, but the real draw is the scenery around it. The Fitz Roy range is one of the most iconic mountain ranges in Patagonia. As we drove into town (on yes, another bus), we stared out the window in awe. The mountains just kept getting bigger and more impressive.

The Fitz Roy range

 A turquoise river marks one of the town's boundaries

The great part about hiking the Fitz Roy range is that the mountains are just a quick step outside of town. Unlike the hike at Torres del Paine, we didn't need to take a bus to another bus to a ferry to get to the great hikes. All we had to do was grab a map and just start walking to enjoy the views.

We met this little guy at our campsite. He has nothing to do with hiking, but isn't he sweet?

This guy too. 

View of a glacier in the mountains

 -R

Hiking Torres del Paine: Day 5

Before we fell asleep on Day 4, Tom and I made a deal. He'd wake up an hour before dawn and take a look at the sky. If the sky looked clear, he'd wake me and ask if I wanted to hike an hour up to the base of the Torres to watch the sun rise over the mountains. If it looked cloudy, he'd let me sleep in.

All night, I dreamed of clouds.

Tom woke me up in the middle of the night and said to me, "I can see the stars."

My response: "[unprintable] stars."

"You don't have to come," he said.

I paused for a minute. Tom was going to hike an hour uphill over big rocks and potentially watch a spectacularly beautiful sunrise. If I didn't get up, he'd climb without me. And I'd have to hear about his experience for the rest of my life. 

Climbing a mountain in the middle of the night, looking like a miner

Hiking Torres del Paine: Day 4

Despite an uncomfortable night's sleep on the platform, we had some energy on the fourth day, which was probably due to the happy little fact that we were almost done.

This is how much energy...

Hiking Torres del Paine: Day 3

Sunset over the lake by our campsite, Refugio Cuernos

Day 3 was our longest hike, eight hours in total. Although the scenery, as exemplified above, made it well worth it, our evening meal left much for want.

Soup, instant mashed potatoes, and lentils. Mmm.

The rain had again assaulted us during the night only to stop around 6 o´clock AM, making for a wet tent, but dry packs and boots.* We kept telling ourselves that if it rained today, we'd be okay because at least we'd been dry for half of our trek. We could muscle through the last half wet. We hoped it wouldn't come to that, but at least we convinced ourselves that it wouldn't be the end of the world. Still, the cloudy skies were ominous as we packed our gear and made our way to the cooking shelter for breakfast.

Breakfast was oatmeal and cappuccinos (again). No Quik today. Our supply was running low.

As this was to be our longest hike, we started walking early. Here is a map of our Day 3 route.

Day 3 route is the purple line

Hiking Torres del Paine: Day 2

No more than an hour after waking up on Day 2, we found ourselves on a rickety wooden bridge overlooking the beautiful Glacier Grey.

If the above photo was a video you'd hear moving water, more wind than even Aeolus could conjure, and not just a few curses from Rachel.

And now let me back up a bit...

This is the trail that we hiked on Day 2. The purple line is our path. Where we finished on Day 2 is actually where we began on Day 1. [Rachel's note: Nothing is worse than hiking for 2 days only to end up exactly where you started.]

It rained through the night, but when we woke up at Refugio Grey there was a lull in the storm so we packed our things quickly to take advantage of the temporarily forgiving weather.

We lugged our gear over to the cooking shelter and fired up the propane burner to boil water for oatmeal and cappuccino packets (with the addition of Nestle Quik). We talked with two young Chileans we'd played cards with the night before, had a few sips of their mate (a very bitter tea best enjoyed in a wooden cup and through a straw), and then left our bags at camp to continue up the ravine to catch a glimpse of Glacier Gray before retreating back the way we'd come.

Hiking Torres del Paine: Pre-Trip and Day 1

This week, we're posting every day about our trek through the Torres del Paine National Park in Southern Chile. Spoiler alert: We lived through it.

The Torres del Paine National Park was a "must-see" for us. Located at the tail end of Chile, the park's scenery is legendary and the 242,242-hectare park is a hiker's paradise. One of the most popular hikes in the park is affectionately referred to as "The W" due to its shape (see the map below). As we traveled throughout Argentina, nearly every traveler we met told us the trek was amazing, terrible, gorgeous, challenging--all at the same time--and yet still definitely worth doing.

Our route the first day was described as fairly easy. We'd start at Lago Pehoe, and walk for about 4-5 hours to the first campsite, following the purple route below. Over the next four days, we'd hike sections of the orange trail.

Day 1 is in purple. The remainder of the "W" is in orange.

Now, I'm not what you'd call an awesome trekker. I like the outdoors when the weather is sunny and warm. I like the cold when I'm bundled up in front of a fireplace, watching the snow fall. My idea of physical activity is a ten-minute jog or an easy dance class. I trip a lot. I have a bum knee. But for some reason, I thought it was a good idea to tackle this 5-day trek at the end of the world in unpredictable (and often cold and wet) weather. Thankfully, we made our way down to Puerto Natales, Chile (the nearest town to the park) so quickly that I didn't even have time to freak out and change my mind until after we already purchased park tickets and rental equipment.

Animals Around Puerto Madryn

After our weeks of hiking in the Lake District and Patagonia, Tom and I were looking forward to a change of pace from all of the walking around in the wilderness. We saw some stunning scenery and met some great people, but we were still ready for something new.

We headed up the Atlantic Coast and decided to stay near Puerto Madryn, Argentina for about a week. The biggest draw? Wildlife.

I promised my mom that we'd see some penguins on this trip of ours, but up until Puerto Madryn, we'd had little luck in that regard.  We didn't make it as far south as Ushuaia, the streets of Puerto Natales were home to little more than tourists, and there was not a tuxedo-clad bird in sight around the glaciers of Torres del Paine.

So we rented a car with another couple and headed to the Punta Tombo reserve outside of Puerto Madryn.

And that's where we got to hang out with this guy:

And this one:

And these:

It was molting season, so some of the penguins were in an awkward transition. Sort of like puberty, but with feathers:

Keeping the momentum of our animal sight-seeing kick going, we rented bicycles the next day and headed to Punta Loma (14 km one way) to see sea lions bathing on the shore.

This is me resting, not falling

- R

El Pitriquitrón

The town of El Bolsón is surrounded by what seems like a hundred different peaks. Jagged ridge-lines overlook the town, and snow-covered peaks loom in the distance. It's impossible not to be awed.

We've spent much of our week in El Bolsón climbing up some of the smaller mountains. We visited the Cabeza de Indio (Indian Head), which looks like a man's face carved into the mountain (similar to New Hampshire's Old Man in the Mountain). Cerro Amigo (Friendly Mountain) was a quick 30 minute hike up; we almost felt like we didn't deserve to see the awesome views of the mountains and town below.

We decided to ask the local experts about the best hike in the entire town. Their answer? "Todos" (all). Hmm. "So what's the best of the best?" 

And they pointed 2,284 meters into the sky to here:

"Cool," we said. "What's it called?"

"El Pitriquitrón."

"And where's the trail?"

"That way." Pointing.

So that's where we decided to hike that day.

Tom pointing to the wrong mountain.

We ventured out on Monday, in the late afternoon.