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Snippets from the streets

By Dan Wallace - 2009-02-02

“I guess it’s okay…its poopy.” This line was said more times than I care to remember in the last week in a half. Let me give you the context: after pulling off the road for the day, pealing our butts off the bike saddles and walking around looking for a good place to set up the tent(s), someone would end up describing the ground and large amounts of excrement saying, “it’s poopy.”

We’ve ridden from Puerto Natales, away from so much comfort and love from the people we met and stayed with, through the “Death Pampas,” and arrived in the smallish town of El Calafate. The ride here was not easy. Over 300Km of wind in the face (even when we should have had a day of tailwind, the wind switched to blow from the east), cold nights, poopy campsites, and rain. But we got here safe and sound, sort-of.

At some point during the long, slow journey from the border crossing back into Argentina at Rio Turbio, to the valley town of El Calafate, Chris misplaced his money belt containing his sensitive documents: passport, bank card, drivers license, the works.

It might have been stolen here in town or left amongst the Devil Thorns in the Death Pampas, who knows. Chris discovered his lack of identity half way through our second day in town and after the panic attacks ceased, research was done, police reports were filed, and bus tickets were purchased. As I write, Chris is on his way to visit the American Embassy in Buenos Aires to buy an emergency passport. For Chris, it’s a 36 hour bus ride across the wildness of Patagonia. Life happens, right?

The previous day and a half was spent at the local gas station working on updates for Reach The World and exploring the town. We have been sleeping at a secret location Daniel found near the top of the city; which has been secure, so far.

The dogs here are crazy! 45 minutes ago I was chased by four dogs on my bike down a street, and yesterday one of Daniel’s rain covers was bitten off! Regardless, we really like this town. The tall green trees bring comfort and familiarity to our spirits which helps fight the feelings of endless death some of us (namely me) get from the harsh, poopy Pampas. If you don’t know what Pampas are, and can’t get the picture from my descriptions, then I’ll give you the scoop. Pampas are endless pasture lands. The sheep and other animals down here have over grazed this land, leaving it bare, covered in Devil Thorns that rip through flesh and clothes, and of course, poopy. They are brown/grey and seemingly desolate. I consider them pretty much desert terrain.

Another reason we like El Calafate is because of its close proximity to the Perito Moreno Glacier. Originally, we were going to ride another 80Km, through more ferocious westerly’s, to the Parque National los Glaciares; but we decided not to kill ourselves and rented a car for 280 pesos. We get about 3.2 pesos per dollar in Argentina so you can figure it out.

Driving was a real treat for us. 100Km/hr didn’t seem real after coming off of a week of no more than 30Km/hr on the bikes; and even with Chris’s lost/stolen documents, we were all in great spirits.

The glacier was ridiculous! The Perito Moreno glacier, being over 6 miles from front to back, over 2 miles from side to side, and hundreds of feet thick, floored all of us. The scene of the massive 150ft wall of beautiful blue-white ice, slowly advancing over the turquoise lake towards the lookout points scattered throughout the lively green mountain-side, was such a contrast to what I’ve seen for the last 7 days that I nearly cried.

As I witnessed house-sized pieces of glacier fall hundreds of feet into the icy waters below, I felt time itself slow down. If the giant ice chunks fell any slower I would have sworn they were falling up, floating up into the air as if in zero gravity. But when each piece hit the water, and the sounds of cannon fire, shotguns, and massive thunder booms reached my ears, time sped up again reminding me that change is inevitable. The sounds of 20 year old ice breaking off and slamming down into the waters below were so thunderous, that if you didn’t know about the glacier you would have thought a war was occurring near by!

We stayed in the park near the glacier for 17 hours, two of us sleeping in the car and two under a tree near the lookout points. Camping is not permitted there so we had to bend the rules. The cannon fire lasted all night, waking me up as I slept under the stars. At one point I thought, “This might be what sleep is like for soldiers like my little brother in war torn areas of the world.” One minute you’re fast asleep, then next you’re catching your breath, as the rumble from the boom that woke you passes through the solid earth below your bed.

Because of passing rain clouds, rainbows arched across the glacier the next morning. We marveled and waited for the hot water machine outside the restaurant to power on, and when it did I made some oatmeal shakes for breakfast.

As the rain arrived, Daniel and Mike meandered up from the lookout points to where Chris and I were chatting with a motorcyclist named Andres. Another Andres, a cyclist, showed up, and the six of us talked and ate in the grand foyer while the rain poured down on the roof above our heads.

We said goodbye after some pictures and drove back to El Calafate, where we later met up with Andres the cyclist (a 23 yr. old Brazilian high school physics teacher from Sao Paulo). He camped with us at our spot that night after we all got ice cream together (solo Crema del Glaciar para mi, por favor). Just another day on the road, right?

We saw Andres off the next morning, and Daniel, Mike and myself waved goodbye to Chris the day after. Now, we’re back in the YPF (gas station), overstaying our welcome…again. Oh well. The three of us will push on to El Chalten where we’ll met up with Chris in about a week. Till next time!