Day Seven: New Year's Eve and the Gods granted us safe passage over the pass...

It was fourteen miles and nine hours later, when we stumbled into the Grey Refugio. We were both knackered. Do we know how to ring in the New Year or what?

Our day began with my 5 am wake up call. I begged a fellow camper with a stove for a boil of water for my personal stash of Starbucks instant coffee shots. (Adrenaline and caffeine were my fuel for the week. Sleep avoided me as if I were a leper). I chugged the Java from my spare Nalgene bottle while wandering over to a clearing. I saw a welcome sight. No clouds on the pass, just mist on the nearby peaks. So far, so good. 

After a bountiful breakfast of two Cliff Bars (there is no meal service at this out of the way camp) we left Perros by 6. It didn't take long before the uphill and the bogs began. It was an obstacle course of muck, slick logs and tree roots with evil intentions. We started making real progress once we got above tree line. In fact, the ascent was reminiscent of Colorado's wilderness trails. The only thing newish about it were the adjacent glaciers diving down around us. After three hours of effort, we spotted the summit's welcome wagon - a good sized cairn adorned with Tibetan prayer flags. Photos were taken, high fives were given and the smiles came out before we headed downhill. 

And then the really hard hiking began for another six hours. There were steep slick drops, swaying bridges across deep canyons, a ladder and many ascents that brought us back to the identical altitude of Perros Camp. 

Huh? How can that be?  We thought the day's destination was a lake!  Apparently water still flows downhill in Patagonia although the trails don't. 

Ahh! But the views of Glacier Grey were beyond belief. It was the Shaquille O'Neil of glaciers. 

(Think 67,000 football fields minus the cheerleaders and steroid enhanced players). In comparison the others looked like mere ice cubes. Later on we saw icebergs calving from the glacier's tongue. They floated away placidly on the olive colored waters of Lagos Grey. I've never seen anything like that before. Then again, being a certified Cold Weenie I usually try to avoid frozen water in any shape, size or form. 

Unfortunately, the eye squinting glare caused my camera's automatic settings to have seizures. The photos don't capture the moment in real time and place. I guess you will have to come this way and see for yourselves. 

After a huge meal and a few beers with fellow hikers, I passed out three hours shy of 2016. It's hard to be a party animal in Patagonia. 

 

May you all have a happy, healthy and prosperous 2016 and beyond. You too Jenny. 

Jeff 

Day Six: A not too difficult climb...

to Perros Camp and the halfway point to John Gardner Pass (3,937').

Don't let that slightly higher than the lowest point in Colorado elevation fool you. At these closer to the South Pole than the Equator latitudes, there's glaciers practically licking at your trail runners. Tree line in Patagonia is approximately 2,000'. On Christmas Day, a half a meter of White Death fell on the pass prompting the authorities to close it. The Powers to Be will also detain hikers on high wind days as well. The CONAF Rangers consider sustained gusts over 60 MPH to warrant this radical action. It was apparent to me that getting our asses over this pass was the difference in making all our precise travel connections or not. So I kept crossing my fingers,  touching wood and looking up at the sky. 

The divide was named after Mr. Gardner who pioneered the route around the Torres Massif in 1978. (The trail we were now on). He was accompanied by two Chilean guides. History does not mention if he was planning on placing Refugios or campsites along the way. 

Upon arriving in camp, we set up and went into energy conservation mode once again. 

Stories abounded about the pass: boot-sucking mud holes, the potential for a blast of glacier inspired winds and a steep (almost vertical according to the elevation profile on the map), descent on the other side. It sounded crazier than any Colorado pass I ever hiked. 

With all these thoughts in mind, it was an early night for us and our fellow campers. 

Buenas Noches from Camp Perros, that goes for you too Jenny.

Jeff

Day Five: Our first meeting with...

the infamous Patagonian wind. 

I walked outside in the early morning light and did the usual glance upward. Hmm. Not bad, minimum clouds and pleasantly warm temperatures. Yippee! Another day of hiking in shorts was coming my way. 

We began our 13 mile hike to the Dickson Refugio by walking upstream along a riverbank. Our map's elevation profile projected fair to mostly flat with a 100% chance of a minor pass. All was honky dory until the divide. A blast of icy wind struck me full on in the kisser. I had to retreat to don my Windstopper jacket and hat. I tightened all my straps and Velcro snaps. In essence, I was battening down the hatches. I waited for Lisa to appear and issued a high wind warning to her. We headed up and over. 

I estimated the winds to be about 40 MPH. We were getting pushed around a lot. Luckily the gusts were forcing us into the hillside instead of down the hillside. It took about ten minutes before we were through the mini-maelstrom. For me, the experience felt like being a kite in a hurricane. On the other hand, Lisa found the experience to be "exhilarating and fun." Once again, typical men vs. women stuff. 

On the final descent to the Dickson Refugio, we spotted semi truck sized icebergs bobbing in the greenish waters of Lagos Dickson. The potential frozen margaritas were calving off the distant Dickson glacier. It was an amazing scene, and something I never saw in Tucson, Arizona. The rest of the day was spent in a long drawn out Happy Hour and glacier photo shoot. 

This sure beats working.

Sleep well Jenny and

Good night from my Refugio bunk bed.

Jeff