If the shoe Fitz...

Holy smoked sardines, what a crazy three days we've had here in Patagonia. I've been proved wrong. Previously I believed that glaciers were slow moving, relatively underwhelming natural phenomenons. Correction: Perito Moreno glacier was the most amazing wonder of the natural world I have ever seen. Not only is it an unearthly shade of blue, but massive chunks larger than houses crash 75 meters into the lake below at least one or twice an hour, ringing out like gunshot. The whole glacier cracks and groans like the sound of lightning hitting earth. In complete awe.

We took the night bus to El Chalten, three hours North to see the Fitz Roy, the FROY - a 'Land Before Time' mountain range piled on top of eachother like drip sandcastles we used to make as kids. It looks as though it could crumble at any moment. Carrying a box full of food, cucumbers and carrots peeled in the bus terminal bathroom (hygienic), we got comfy on the bus and made sure to break the only two rules posted above the driver: DO NOT EAT OR TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES. That's the only reason I take buses. Luckily there was nothing against drinking beer so we made sure to take advantage of that.

The moon rose above the eerie Patagonian landscape. Deserted lands lined by low mountains and meandering blue rivers set aglow by a full moon. As we approached El Chalten we saw the glowing silhouettes of the majestic Fitz Roy range, tall, elegant and jagged - dominating the clearest night sky. I fell in love with one mountain that had the twisted elegance of a swan. The night disguised a black cliff face and the rest of the mountain, covered in snow, created a fairy-tale peak twisting up towards the heavens. We discovered today the peak is called "SOLO" or 'alone' in spanish. Perfect.

We got rained out yesterday on our first climb to see the Froy. Soggy bottomed and wind-burned, we turned back before the final descent. Today however, was a gift from the universe. It started out by spotting two condors soaring above the cliffs outside our hostel. You can literally walk out of town with your pack to get to the trail head. The sun was warm and lit up all the snowy peaks, casting brilliant shadows between the tall forests on the trail. We wound between glacier fed rivers, barren sandy plains, stunted-tree marshes and old-growth forests. The fall colours were incredible - goldens, deep hues of red and orange. It felt like home and the scents of damp leaves, oregano and sweet forest floor reminded me October in Canada. That makes sense as it is currently autumn in the Southern hemisphere. Also reminded us both how incredible Canada is and how excited we are to explore our own country when we return. Now more than ever, I believe I live in the most beautiful country in the world.

We reached the base where a glacier runs into a high mountain lake, grey-blue and white-tipped with the wind. Had a wee nap on a lakeside rock and took in the sun. A sunset bus ride back to El Calafate was equally as inspiring as the first. Yerba mate in hand and a bag of chocolate, we watched a red glow rise from behind the humble mountains, unable to decide if it was the rise of a harvest moon or setting of a lazy sun.   I think not knowing is best.

Also - sorry Argentina but I still think Cabernet Suavignon is better than Malbec, but RESPECT. Tomorrow off to Torres Del Paine - attempt number two, to watch the sun rise over the Torres (towers) there. Luckily tonight we are staying in a room with two others that are taking the same bus tomorrow morning. We figure that with four alarms set, we have a 60% chance of making the bus. Otherwise, I'm keeping my eyes out for cardboard for a new hitchiking sign. VAMOS A TORRES DEL PAINE, TENEMOS EMPANADAS!

Hitchhikers guide to being disorganized in Patagonia

Made it. Celebrating with wine (ever day is celebrated by wine around here) and tupperware gnocchi thanks to Chef Joel. Even managed to find ourselves two pull-out mattresses in this hostel's second floor common room. We are winners (also how Joel signed himself into our last hostel "WINNER", I just wrote STUDENT as my occupation - not nearly as creative). How did we pull it off? Some sweet smiles and fresh cookies.

The wonderful Luis drove us from just across the Argentinian border until halfway to our destination. We wooed him with our pastries, I used my limited Spanish and Joel slept profusely. Luis was the best. Found ourselves in a ghost town where the only trace of human activity was at the gas station. The wind here is bitter cold so we took beer and empanada breaks when our hands beat with the onset of hypothermia.

Perhaps the best part where all the funny hand signals and pity faces we received from the people who didn't pick is up. There was the "Sorry I'm headed the other way but PROPS," the "I am confused and distrusting" the "There's kids and useless stuff piled up in the back seat but good luck" and finally, the "I'm way too ballin' and you may wrinkle my leather seats" face.

After waiting around the gas station, we picked up the last bus out to El Calafate at one of the four different times we were told it MAY or MAY NOT arrive. You just never know. The funny thing was we saw a pal from the hostel on his way back from the organized glacier tour. His impression is that we are the most ridiculous people he's ever met. I definitely take this as a major compliment.

And so we are thrilled to provide you with "ALI AND JOEL'S THREE STEPS TO LAZY HITCHHIKING" free of charge.
1. Lie on the road so that a) they HAVE to stop for you, or B) you can avoid the wind and have a siesta
2. Sit in the local gas station drinking beer and simply place your sign in the window, show the occasional thumbs up and hope someone approaches offering a ride.
3. Take a bus. 

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

Edge of the World

I think maybe, the end of the world is just wind. The end, where absent roads drive themselves into the seas and the land is drowned by the waves, there is only wind. It's a wind that rattles panes and cries through the night - the abject wail of a naive lover who fell irrationally for the one who had always planned on leaving. The water is heart breaking green, gashed with white scares by an envious wind. The waves fold into one another in refuge until they are wasted upon the rocky earth. This gaping harbour seems as though it was carved out of the surrounding mountains by a dull knife, leaving them sharp-toothed and unrefined. They lean inwards scorred with chopped snowy lines by a careless sculptor. Yet somehow, these brute edges, worn for wear, offer a simplicity and welcome within peaceful chaos. These landscapes are lightly tread and this is their charm.

Found myself feeling a little restless and lethargic last night (might be the  balanced diet of bread and empanadas) and took off for a quick sunset run. I always seem to find myself at the edge of the water when I need to refocus and find my energy again. What a sight. The wind was deafening and the golden light of sunset fought through grey and stormy skies. Two dozen birds were perched on the remnants of a collapsed wharf, with only the poles remaining.

I suppose we're not quite at the end of the world, but it feels like we're close. Puerto Natales, one of the last habitable frontiers in Chilean Southern Patagonia. In the light and the relentless wind, I'm reminded of the tales of determined explorers navigating the heartless coastline of South America's Cape Horn and trying to tame these unpredictable lands. I forget where we are sometimes, this town is like a Nordic relic or Alaskan outpost. The people are curt but warm, I think a condition of people living in trying climates. The skies turn from a vibrant blue to static grey in a matter of minutes. Here with the spirited and always-patient Joel, we're waiting for our bus to head a bit North to see Perito Moreno, one of three growing glaciers in this part of the world (74 meters high off the lake level) and then to Mount Fitzroy to hike around these unworldly-shaped giants.

Despite Joel's exceptional Condor sweater and mine of the lama variety, the south american stars didn't line up for us (I managed to miss my watch alarm) and we missed the bus out this morning.... so we're improvising. Omar, the hostel owner gave me strict directions in the creation of our hitchhiking sign. WE'RE GOING TO CALAFATE in espanol. Not that exciting but should do the trick. So crossing the border to Argentina this afternoon and likely going to grab a stretch limo all the way up. With our 3-6 day shower-free hair, stink, and colourful collision of warm clothes, who could resist us?

I spent the last two weeks with Danielle from home, jetsetting between Peru, Chile and Argentina. Together we battled altitude sickness, sudden needs to find a bathroom, central market food ( and it's effects)  the loss of 3 earrings from a new piercing (this might have been my favourite). How many times we found ourselves on hands and needs, wiping our hands across disgusting floors to find a little ball smaller than a grain of rice, swearing to the high heavens. That's a real friend, down there with me - restaurant floors, bathroom floors, bus floors. Classic. We had some fantastic times too, often purple teeth giggling after one too many wine tours, recruiting Chilean street dogs to accompany us to our destination. One of these events ended with me in tears on the subway when my puppy-german shepard (who had snuggled with me for a two hour sunset on the beach) tried to follow us all the way into the train but wasn't allowed. We named him Turk for his long turkey neck and funny bark. I'll return for Turk one day. Other highlights included Machu Pichu, wine tasting and biking in Mendoza in Argentina, renting a car to  visit vineyards in Chile, a delicious dinner in Lima (at the most anti-vegetarian restaurant possible, good job Ali) where we were more or less the entertainment for a good portion of the restaurant and a visit to the house of the famous Chilean poet Pablo Neruda in Vina Del Mar. His silly, nautical-inspired style was so fascinating in a house. It was designed like a ship and lighthouse with rounded corners and full windowed walls that felt like a ship's cabin. Groovy.