Refried Neurons

Good morning El Chalten!

It’s 9 a.m., it’s cloudy, rainy, and overall just shite hiking weather. Our muscles are a bit sore, so today’s adventure is a road trip!

The road that passes through El Chaltén doesn’t actually end there—it carries on for another 30 km along the river before stopping abruptly next to what looks like a glacier. Obviously, we had to explore. The first few kilometres were decent enough, just gravel, but still manageable. We were driving alongside a glacial river, with snow-capped mountains in the background. I filmed a ton of footage on my GoPro, my hand sticking out of the window, freezing, hoping that one day I’d make one of those cool travel videos you see on TikTok. It’s now a year later, and I still haven’t touched it. But I bet it was worth it.

We passed a few hikers—there’s apparently another trail to Fitz Roy that starts past the town, plus a trail running along the river. Honestly, this would have been perfect for a bike ride, maybe even e-bikes, because yet again, we were stuck going 30 km/h, which later dropped to a painful 10 km/h. I could have cycled it faster.

After the first semi-wooden bridge, the road went from gravel to full-on boulders, and we were basically crawling. Loads of SUVs sped past us, but we weren’t alone in our suffering—some equally insane tourists were following suit in completely unsuitable cars. It only took us two hours to get to the end of the road. At least we had time to enjoy the views. Or I did. M was driving and probably more focused than she’s ever been in her life, trying not to wreck the car.

At some point, we reached a lovely red bridge. Well, it looked lovely until we got closer. It had another wooden deck—except this time, it was much longer, with two layers of planks: one going across and two narrow strips running along for the wheels. Since M wasn’t exactly confident she could keep the tyres on those strips without suddenly sliding off, I jumped out to guide her. The bridge probably could have handled our tiny car, but the gaps between the planks were massive—I actually had to jump over them. No way in hell was I risking a wheel getting stuck in one of those.

Safely on the other side (after causing a small traffic jam of two cars), we carried on. We passed lakes full of flamingos, a waterfall, and a surprisingly cool-looking campsite before reaching the end of the road. We grabbed tickets to the park from a tiny coffee shop in a caravan and set off on a short and relaxed hike—to something. No clue what.

I do like doing my research, but sometimes, knowing too much ruins the surprise. It’s not that it changes the place itself, but it does raise your expectations. If you’re not there at sunrise, or the weather isn’t perfect, you end up feeling disappointed instead of just enjoying where you are. This time, we knew fuck all, so it was all a surprise.

The walk wasn’t long, maybe an hour or so, but it was incredible. A narrow path wound through an ancient forest covered in moss and lichen. It felt like something out of a fairytale, with the most cosmic-looking mushrooms growing from tree branches. Along the way, we met some lovely Argentinians with Polish roots—there are loads of locals with Polish heritage. At some point, it felt like nearly everyone we met had some kind of connection.

The trail led us to a small river and then climbed up a hill. And oh my god, the view from the top. We’d enjoyed the Fitz Roy vistas earlier in the trip, but this was something else. A lush green valley, then a layer of bare yellowish rock, and finally, snow-covered peaks—the same ones we had just driven through. Easily one of the most spectacular views I’ve ever seen. We stopped for a snack (empanadas, obviously), then carried on for another 15 minutes—10 of which were spent taking photos. In front of us, a glacier tongue was spilling into a bright blue lake, surrounded by green shrubs and grey rocks. With every step, it loomed larger. I was so glad we weren’t in a rush and could just sit and soak it all in.

On the way back, I barely noticed the ropes lining part of the trail. Being relatively fit, I figured they were unnecessary. Yeah, well, that was until we started descending, and after one slip, it ding-donged in my brain that, actually, yes, they were very necessary. I was so grateful for them.

Back at the car park, we spotted another trail leading in the opposite direction, across a wobbly suspension bridge with a helpful sign saying only one person at a time. Not exactly confidence-inspiring, but we crossed it anyway for a quick look around. It was very wobbly. I’m sure it could hold two people weight-wise, but balance-wise? No way in hell. Both of us would’ve ended up in the river.

Since this was supposed to be a lazy day, and it had started raining, we decided to head back. Annoyingly, we realised too late that we’d missed out on a chance to go kayaking on a glacial lake. But hey, we still had another 30 km of boulders to conquer.

On the way back, we spotted gorgeous burrowing parrots feasting on fruit from roadside trees. The drive was just as slow as before, except this time, I was at the wheel. When we reached the bridge with the dodgy gaps again, M was in charge of navigating. She quickly hopped out, absolutely howling with laughter at the fact that we were two blondes who literally couldn’t cross a bridge without help. And then, just as I was about to start shouting back, I actually started shouting—because she was walking backwards over the bridge. The same bridge with gaps big enough to fall through straight into the river below. Thank fuck she stopped. I mean, Jesus. No phone reception. A riverbed several metres down. If she had fallen, it would’ve been full-on rallycross—me vs. the road, racing against time.

Anyway, safe and sound on the other side (again causing a queue of two cars), we finally made our way back. By the time we rolled into town, all we wanted was a massage and dinner. There’s one massage parlour in El Chaltén, so we headed straight there with the naive hope that we wouldn’t need a booking. Ha. Yeah, the next available appointment was in two days.

So, onto Plan B: dinner. When in Argentina, one has to eat a cow’s arse. We found ourselves in a very meaty-sounding place—Butch, Bar de Carnes. Yet again, the decor was spot on. Does everyone in this town have impeccable taste?

We ordered one steak to share. I did feel a bit weird about it, like we were wasting their restaurant space, but when the enormous slab of beef landed on our table, I was so relieved. That thing was massive. It cost us about $4, and with two glasses of great wine and a starter, the total bill came to around $12. Absolute bargain.

Cheerful and full, we started heading back but got distracted by a bar with massive windows glowing in the sunset light. It looked warm and inviting, full of people sipping beers in the golden rays. We love meeting new, interesting people when travelling, so we figured we’d check it out.

Half a pint in, we realised two things:
a) Everyone there was either in a couple or a large group, utterly uninterested in making new friends.
b) We were knackered.

Feeling like proper old farts, we called it a night.