Patagonia, Buses, and Tasty Sandwiches
Written by Brian Burnham of Cirque
Productions, Creators of TREK - A Journey on the Appalachian
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When I first began my career as a climber, my
friends and I would go on trips in search of THE perfect route.
Our quest took us everywhere in the US, into Canada, and also overseas
to Europe. Occasionally we would claim to one another that we had
found IT at some epic crag like the New River Gorge or Fontainbleau
France. The search would obviously not stop; what fun would it
be if we quit looking.
This carried over into my backpacking obsession
and led to our group constantly searching for the best valley or
ridge or summit. In 2001 I thru-hiked the AT, hoping to find some
new contenders for ‘the-most-killer-section-of-trail.’ One
could easily grant victory to The Whites of New Hampshire, or the
100 Mile Wilderness of Maine. However, I couldn’t settle
for such and easy and local victory so…..this summer I stuffed
a sub zero bag and other gear into my pack and went searching in
the far reaches of South America, the infamous, often discussed,
rarely visited, Patagonia.
I must admit, I was a bit nervous on our arrival.
First of all, my Spanish is a bit weak; the few classes I had in
high school have worn off a bit over the decade, and the thoughts
of being plunged into the monstrous city of Buenos Aires in the
pitch dark had me a bit on edge. I stepped off the plane and quickly
realized that the shorts and T I was donning for a North Carolina
summer were not going to work for a South American winter, especially
one of the Patagonian flavor.
We avoided the mobs of cabbies trying to screw
us on the fair, and got a good ride to a hostel. My fears didn’t
subside much during our journey through the city. We drove through
the most desperate slums I had seen in my life; people living in
the rubble remains of houses, and in piles of garbage. I was busy
being aghast at the living conditions when I noticed someone being
mugged in broad darkness. I would say broad daylight, but at 8
in the morning, there still wasn’t any light to be found.
We quickly moved on from the sprawl of Buenos
Aires in search of the back-country. Our first stop brought us
to the lake district of Bariloche,
Argentina, only quick 24-hour bus ride away. We began our research
into the Patagonia region here. A stop at their local mountaineering
shop ‘Club Aldino’ had us very discouraged. In their
very fluent Spanish, they claimed Patagonia a non-option for this
time of the year. Based on cold, snow, road access, bus schedules
and general winter weather, they said visiting there was not even
possible in June. They recommended rerouting north into better
conditions. We were bummed. The first stop on our trip and Patagonia
already seemed out of reach. While contemplating our situation
over a Quilmes, the local Argentine beer (available mainly in 40’s),
someone sat down next to us that also looked like a weathered traveler.
We jumped right in and probed him for all the information we could,
and discovered that one, he spoke English, and two he had just
come from Patagonia and raved about its remote, desolate winter
landscapes So we finished our beer and hopped on the southbound
bus. What did the professional mountaineer in the Club Aldino know
anyway?
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