December 30, 2025
Chalten-waitday
Was hoping the Brazilian climber's weather forecast would mean a damp Irish day, but at 06.30 few places were safe from the strong gusty wind. In fact it would develop into a day of two halves with a fine afternoon. Meanwhile, an Englishwoman from the overlander truck came running with kettle in hand complaining their tarp they'd rigged to the truck's leeside which covered their kitchen and dinning area had blown down. They'd all be coming into the common room. Surprisingly, with so many in the common room, the wifi was fast enough to do a journal page after breakfast.
Once I finished, when on a fact finding mission about an alternative to my planned hike to Piedra Fraile. I wanted to know how far the Loma or Tumbado, a hike to a viewpoint south of Laguna Torres is. On the not very detailed map in the camping reception it looks a long way. So walk to national park centre on the southside of town and where the hike starts: there the map shows 10 kms or 3 hours, so not as far as envisaged.
Walk back against cold driving rain, calling into a big rustic house on a height at top-end of main avenue, which is a book and souvenir shop. Inside is a wide selection of books on Patagonia including one based on a diary by a Ramon Lista, who in 1890 headed a steamship exploratory-navigation up the Santa Cruz river. I really like old diary accounts, as its a window into the time it was written, a bit like time travel. I put it on my wishlist. Also flicked through a photo-book on the life work of an early photographer of the area showing black and white photos of the valley where the village is now in the 1930s. Another on the wishlist. I then buy a paper hiking map showing all the info needed. Mission accompliced. While paying had to wait for 2 American climbers who were paying for a huge heap that took up the whole counter of bags of mixed dried fruit and nuts (camping food and gas is sold here too), which took some time counting.
It was still raining when I came out of the shop and its a longest walk against the rain up San Martin street pass the campsite to the cafe I got the waffle in yesterday, where I order the same today. It is 11.30 and it'll do for lunch. When I come out after 12 the sun is out, its warm and I return to the campsite to collect the Kona for a bike ride on the single track along the river, across the bridge and up the gravel road on the other side toward an old farm call estancia Fitzroy, or Madsen. It is only a couple of kilometres but there isn't much to see other than a forlorn homestead in a stand of popular windbreak besides its scenic valley setting. On the way back took photo of municipal apartment block clad in corrugated iron, then rode another single-track making it a proper mountain bike ride, until I come to a fence barring further progress, so double back and return to campsite along river.
Afternoon hot. Washing machine free as Scandinavians sunbathe, so get laundry done. Presently, writing diary early at 17.30, preparing for early night and big hike tomorrow. My friend from Uppsala isn't waiting, he and his companions with heavy rucksacks full of climbing equipment and provisions set off for the mountains this afternoon.
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