Photos: Part IV of the ice cap traverse

Photos: Part III of the ice cap traverse

Photos: Part II of the ice cap traverse

Photos: Part I of the ice cap traverse

Posting photos has become much more complicated than hoped ... it's what I like to refer to as the "Argentina factor." At one place the Internet is too slow to handle photos, at the next place there are no USB ports, etc., etc. "Asi es." Translated that means, "so it is."

Another great example of the "Argentina factor" is the fact that there has been no gasoline for cars available in El Chalten for two days, and now they're saying it will be at least another two days before any arrives. Our guide, Jorge, put my parents and I on a bus to get back to El Calafate, so that we can make our transfer to Puerto Natales ... but Jorge and Luciana (our other guide) are stuck in El Chalten unless they can find enough friends who can give them a few liters of diesel to get them to the closest town, 130 km away.

So here are the fruits of a few days worth of work ... five photos ... that I'm calling Part I of the ice cap traverse. With any luck, Part II will be up by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Day 2 of the ice cap traverse

The mountain let out a ferocious roar. I looked up in time to see huge chunks of ice peel off a glacier to my left and tumble down the polished cliff face below. I felt awe, and an awful, ominous sense that a long, difficult journey lay before us.

We arrived at a steep snowfield, switchbacked up and then came to a rock face. The climbing on the rock face wasn't exceptionally difficult ... I'd certainly scrambled up more technical routes without a rope before ... but the exposure was serious. One wrong step and ... I shuddered at the thought.

The wind gusted fiercely, threatening to knock me off balance without notice. My pack toppled, top heavy, from side to side. My heart thudded, numb with fear. We moved carefully, methodically. The intensity of the situation showed in the terse way we talked to one another. "No" "Stand Up" "There" "Wait" "Go."

We eventually reached the top of the rock outcropping and I took a huge sigh of relief. That relief was short lived. The glacier-caked pass, named Macaroni, that opened into Patagonia's southern ice cap met us with a bulldozer of wind. Gusts came like a freight train, determined to plow everything in its path. At times, all we could do was dig our crampons and poles into the ice with as much force as we could muster, hunch over and pray for mercy. Little pieces of ice, caught by the wind, pelted us relentlessly. I grit my teeth, determined not to dwell on just how ridiculous, just how terrible the situation had become.

We only had 3 miles of fairly flat walking to go to get to a hut built by the Chilean government. There we would find refuge from the weather that tormented us, but our pace had slowed to a near crawl, and I knew we still had a long trudge ahead of us.

We roped up as a precaution for crevasses. Miraculously, the wind stopped just long enough for us to tie the rope to our harnesses. In a line, we continued toward the hut. One step, two step. I thought about Cory, Zippy and Oscar snuggled up at home, at the base of the Tetons. I thought about the last 13 grueling miles of the Leadville 100. I thought about the grit and perseverance my parents showed ... and wondered whether they'd ever again go along with one of my ideas for an expedition. I thought about the whole damn experience is a state of mind ... and I could either choose to hate it or choose to enjoy it. I could choose to focus on the wind, my fogged up sunglasses, the fact that I had to go to the bathroom but had a harness on ... or I could focus on the fact that I put on enough layers and felt warm, I still had strength enough to continue ... and here I was finally living my dream of going to Patagonia's ice cap.

I started to bonk. My stomach gurgled with hunger. I fought against the wind to get my mitten off. When I finally got it off, I clutched it tight with my armpit. With liner gloved providing measly protection against the weather, I moved quickly to unzip a pocket and pull of a package of sport jelly beans. At first I couldn't get the package open, but with sheer determination and my two front teeth, I finally pulled it apart. I gulped those sports beans down like my life depended on it ... and in some ways it did.

Still starved I began to think about the alfajor, an argentine chocolate and dulce de leche pastry, in my other pocket. Once the alfajor entered my mind, it wouldn't leave, until it was in my mouth. Clumsily I got to that alfajor and ate it in two bites ... all the while walking roped up, over a glacier, in driving winds and total whiteout conditions.

One of our guides, Luciana, caught up to me to ask me to put her water bottle away ... she got thirsty in the way that I got hungry. I suggested we get everyone's attention to take a quick food and water break. I was sure my parents needed calories as badly as I did. We stopped for two minutes. We huddled together in a feeble attempt to keep our gorp from flying right off the palm of our hands. We considered it a success that about half the gorp from the ziplock bag made it into our mouths.

One long, endless hour later we arrived at a heavenly place ... a metal structure perched on a dark moraine. There the ice that plastered our clothes and faces melted, and with it our nerves. Hot tea, laughter and rest were but a prelude to the perfectly sunny weather window that would allow us to traverse seamlessly across the ice cap in the days ahead.

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