Two Paths

I head towards the top of town not quite sure where I’m going but I manage to guess my way there and I find the Glaciar Martial trailhead, and I have another muddy, boggy yet beautiful trail to myself. I cross a road and see the chairlift to the top. But chairlifts are for skiing. The way gets steeper and muddier and then emerges from the woods, crosses a stream and leads past a refugio based at the top of the chairlift.

I skip across logs and rocks to cross a bog. A young American couple complain, "Why did we come this way? Because we’re stupid, that’s why." The crowded snout of the glacier is populated with everyone from old Argentinian couples to European backpackers and American tourists. I walk across the well trodden glacier and continue up a steep trail with loose stone. And the way becomes noticeably chilly and windy.

After a long slog, I cross a couple more rocky hills and some snowfields to face a bowl of craggy mountains. A girl gazing off one of the hilltops turns around and motions to me. She’s used up her batteries, she explains to me in Spanish, and she wants to borrow mine. She snaps a few pictures and tells me MUCHisimo gracias and offers me her trail mix. I lunch on the vista before turning back toward warmer climes. On the way back the trail I encounter a Norwegian couple I noticed on the bus to Ushuaia. She gives me a cute smile while her boyfriend grunts out a hello.

There’s a lot of daylight remaining when I reach the road so I walk towards another trail further east. I pass through meadows and enter the woods once again, climbing and feeling the fatigue starting to settle in. But I press on compelled by the curiosity of where the trail will end.

I surpass the treeline and cross some deep snow. I’m chilled and rain showers start falling. I set a deadline for 6:30 and keep moving finally spotting a sign for a laguna. I lose the trail so I point myself towards a saddle and cross the mossy talus.

The laguna is slushy and nearly frozen over even as it approaches summer. I turn around and follow the stream back down, having lost the trail hopelessly this time. As I hop dead trees and push through vines and bogs, I’m still not sure, so following the stream is still my surest bet. Once the way becomes too treacherous, I climb up the ravine and search for the trail in earnest, and I find it fairly easily.

I make it back, a 26 km day, and eat whatever’s left in my pack for dinner. In my dorm an Israeli girl, Mia, comes in and immediately talks about her adventure around South America. She makes me laugh so I’m happy to listen.