Grit, glaciers and stunning landscapes

Wow! What an adventure! It took us six spectacular and grueling days to complete the traverse on the Southern Ice Cap here in Patagonia. My parents are amazing ... the grit and determination they showed through demanding terrain and ferocious weather will be long remembered.

It´s hard to know where to even begin ...

Maybe with the highlights ... camping in the cirque, a spot on the ice cap where we had a spectacular view of the back of Cerro Torre and seemingly a thousand other glaciers and peaks, spilling down from 360 degrees ... waking up to a perfect weather window, sunny skies signaling us the go ahead of the traverse ... gaining the top of windy pass, without so much as a ripple on the surface of the alpine lakes, and looking back at the ice cap and the many miles we covered the two days prior ...  seeing green and camping in a forrest after several days of surviving in the land of ice and polished rocks ... drinking home-brewed beer and eating fresh salad to celebrate our successful trip last night here in Chalten.

Then there were the high-lowlights, as we´ve coined the phrase ... crossing a waist deep glacial river ... so icy and roaring so fast that was all wanted to cry, or cuss, or both at the same time ... feeling a momentary sense of relief when we climbed off an exposed rock face onto the ice field, only to be greeted by 50 mph winds, total white out conditions, and ice pelting us as if 7,000 beebee guns were firing our direction (in that moment I definitely found myself thinking, "what the hell are we doing?" and "who had this hellish idea to make this trip? (for the record, it was my idea)) ... fortunately there was a hut built by the Chilean government on the ice cap where we were able to take refuge that night ... if that wasn´t there we certainly would have had to retreat. At the end of the two-day ice cap crossing came the morrain, loose rock, scree and boulders piled haphazardly in huge mounds ... for two days we scrambled our way across this terrain that took more of a toll than the ice itself.

Now, as I sit here in a warm, dry Internet cafe, while whipping wind and relentless rain lash the windows ... the whole experience feels a bit dreamlike. It's amazing that we actually walked ourselves into and out of that type of landscape. My parents showed such perservance and grit, and our guides, Jorge and Luciana, are amazing, selfless, knowledgeable, tough humanbeings who guided our way with deft determination and skill.

I hope to get as few photos up on this blog soon ... afterall, as the saying goes, a photo is worth a thousand words ... and in fact, some of the photos we have may be worth 100,000 words.

Signing off from Chalten, Argentina,

Amy

Tundra wandering

Joanna, Zippy and I left Monday for a "portable denning" trip. (Note: much the way a parent of a newborn starts to use baby talk, my vocabulary has taken on puppy overtones). We headed six hours north up to the Denali Highway and launched from a beautiful bluff named McClaren Summit.

We spent the next five days strolling over tundra covered with lakes and caribou. Glaciers spilled out of distant mountains, while nearby scree-filled peaks created a natural amphitheater. Sun and rain intermittently poured through fluffy, ominous, accentuated clouds - a playground straight from the divine.

(I accidentally uploaded photos in reverse order ... so the photos start with the end of the trip, and end with the beginning of the trip).

Ram to Rumble

Joanna, Zippy and I kicked off our Alaska adventure with a three day backpacking trip over a route practically out my front door. We headed up gorgeous Ram Valley, a hanging valley flowing into Eagle River Valley. We started on a lush, green, wildflower-covered trail, which quickly opened up into tundra and then glacier. We got onto Ram Glacier, scrambling over moraine, snow and ice until we crested Bombardment Pass. From Bombardment Pass we linked up with a goat trail that wound down to Peter's Creek. We set up camp on a tundra-carpeted knoll at the toe of Rumble Peak and at the headwaters of Peter's Creek. In full amphitheater style seven waterfalls cascaded down from glaciers past our camp site to the valley below. Talk about being lulled to sleep by the sound of nature.

On Day 2 we begged Rumble Peak, choosing to turn around about three quarters of the way up the 7,500-foot scramble over scree. Clouds socked us in, eliminating any chance of a view from the peak and we faced two long days ahead: a 22 mile bushwack out Peter's Creek valley July 17 and, for me, the 24-mile Crow Pass race July 18.

After another peaceful night in a tent, Joanna, Zippy and I woke up bright and early to begin our trek through braided rivers and dense brush. I had to be to at a pre-race meeting in Anchorage that evening, so we were on the clock and booking it ... it's a wonder Joanna and Zippy willingly went out into the backcountry again with me only a few days later. It must have been the jagged peaks, vibrant blooms and rushing water that won them over.