Zapala - Copahue - Buta Ranquil - Mendoza - Cacheuta, Argentina

Few places are as comforting as the steaming waters of a hot spring. From the moment we left Cochamó I had fantasized of feeling scalding water on my weathered skin, soaking into my weary muscles and aching bones. 

A view of Lagunas Las Mellizas with Volcan Copahue smoking in the distance

Before our departure from the US I had flipped through a travel guide and dog eared places that sounded unique.  One such place was the tiny seasonal hot springs resort town of Copahue, Argentina.  Nestled in the Andes along the border of Chile and Argentina, Copahue resides 20km down a gravel road above Caviahue, a ski town on the shore of Lago Caviahue. Its name comes from the language of the  indigenous Mapuche  meaning, "place of sulfurous waters". Inundated by snow in the winter Copahue is only accessible from December to April. The villages namesake thermal baths are fed by a geothermal field brought to life by Volcán Copahue located several miles southwest of the town.

The moonscape surrounding Copahue

A steaming summit crater and strong indication of  local geothermal activity

As we prepared to venture to this remote and isolated place I did my research, rereading the guidebook and checking the municipality website. Satisfied and impressed by photos of large steaming outdoor pools we bought our bus tickets excited for what we thought awaited us.  Our trip northward was a feat in itself.  Copahue lays far off the beaten international tourism path and according to our guidebook is predominantly visited by Argentinians.  

We left Bariloche in the morning,  leaving behind the lakeshore and its tall evergreen trees.  Reentering the Patagonian steepe we enjoyed expansive views of rolling hills, bluffs, volcanic cliff bands and golden grasses. We waited two hours in the small bus station of Junín de los Andes, the fly fishing capital of the Neuquén Province, for our transfer to the larger travel hub of Zapala. 

Arriving in Zapala in the evening, with the next bus to Copahue leaving in the morning we were stuck for the night. While purchasing our bus tickets Cody gave a $1 US bill to an employee who collects foreign money.  The excitement as he looked at George Washington's face was delightful and we were glad to have had the small bill in his wallet. As we finished the transaction we were asked two questions.  They did not seem odd at the time but soon became the mantra of what was to become an amusing misstep in our journey, "Where are you from and why are you here?"

City streets after rain in the city of Zapala

Zapala, while containing a respectable population has virtually no tourism industry.  A couple of depressing hotels and sad cafes reside near the bus station where we found accommodations for the night.  Walking three times back and forth across town we found one lonely restaurant serving breaded steaks with instant mashed potatoes. Unenthused by the bland fare we set out in search of a supermarket. While filling our cart with food for dinner and our pending bus ride the sky opened with an audible deluge.  Torrents of water poured into the parking lot flowing into the streets. With no where to go we sat under the eaves and ate a chocolate bar.  When the rain stopped, we walked to the curb and found that the streets were now rivers of fast flowing water almost 6 inches deep. At corners, standing waves formed and pulses of water overflowed onto the sidewalks. Unable to cross the streets and with cars spraying rooster tails of water whenever they passed pedestrians gathered helpless on the sidewalks.

As we waited for the floodwaters to subside the sun began to drop in the sky.  We contemplated a barefoot crossing but were dissuaded by the broken glass and muddy waters in the Argentine streets. After nearly an hour of waiting, hungry and damp, we threw a concrete slab in the road as a stepping stone and made our way back to the hotel. Despite the somewhat morose atmosphere, Zapala had several redeeming qualities at least one pretty park and sidewalks made of flagstone bearing ammonite fossils the size of dinner plates. 

Overlooking Copahue with the thermal baths located in the center of town

Ready to soak our weary bodies we eagerly boarded the bus the next morning.  I felt giddy and excited to go to a new, remote, and beautiful place.  The drive was breathtaking through the sparse high desert passing tiny alcoves along the road with statues and offerings to saints wishing well upon travelers.  After our final bus transfer in Caviahue we climbed several thousand feet passing the geothermal field and a steaming lake surrounded by the dilapidated  structures of a forgotten resort. As we climbed, fog coated the interior windows of the bus and the wind whistled outside. Stepping off the bus we were met with a blast of cold air.  The icy wind cut through our clothing and large wet snowflakes splattered against our bodies.  

Cold and tired we we set out in search of accommodations.  After asking at several hotels who were either grossly expensive or full, a proprietor sought out to help us by calling several other places until we found an apartment close to the thermal pools.  During our search we were again questioned, "Where are you from? Why are you here?" Our answer, "Por los thermals (for the hot springs)" was met with sideways glances making us realize for the first time things may not be quite what we thought they were.  

The Virgin Mary overlooking Copahue

After settling into our cozy apartment we were ready to relax. We could see steam rising through the cold air from large hot pools and could not wait to enter them. We set off with swimsuits and towels but rather than the steamy hot 105 degree Fahrenheit pools of sulfur laden water we found we had wandered too far off the beaten path into a bizarre hot spring spa that functioned at a geriatric retreat.  Inside the building we found we were the youngest visitors by many decades with the average age of guests easily over 70.  A complicated sign near the front door explained the registration process which involved a consultation with the information desk, medical screening, meeting with administration, payment, followed by treatments with each step taking place at a different section of the building.  After a long and confusing introduction, Cody and I were fast tracked having signed away our lives to avoid the expensive and unnecessary medical referral. Only then did we discover there were no hot, open air pools to soak in, only private tubs in private treatment rooms that could be used for 15 minutes once daily.

Because we had traveled so far to get here on 4 different buses over 1.5 days I was determined to try it once before I knocked it. Despite the ridiculous cost of 150 pesos ($10) a person for a 15 minute soak in sulfur water we signed up with administration and paid our fee. 

At this point frustrated, disappointed and exhausted we slumped onto a hallways bench.  With no clear directions we watched as the infirm slowly meandered the narrow hallways. Only after a generous young employee approached us, did we realize we needed to ring a nondescript button near the end of a corridor. Shortly thereafter, a woman in scrubs came out to collect our paperwork directing us into a small medical waiting room complete with a chilly temperature and peeling vinyl benches. She told us to undress and wandered into an adjacent room where we heard a tub fill with water.  After several minutes, still baffled as to whether or not we should be naked the orderly returned and told us to take off everything before shepherding us into the "treatment" room.  The windowless concrete room contained only an elevated fiberglass tub with half a dozen spigots positioned above it on one end. The entire scene felt clinical, as if we were about to become part of a science experiment without knowing.  Cody and I entered the sulfurous water to find it felt tepid at the supposed 36C. A quick calculation in my head confirmed that at 96 degrees F the water was not even body temperature.  Cody spent the "treatment" agitated while I did my best to relax and takeaway something positive from the strange events of the day.  Disappointed, the bath passed quickly and soon we were back in the waiting room being told to lie down on the cracked vinyl benches to rest, as if the warm bath could have possibly exhausted us.  Cody wanted to leave without "resting" but I was determined to play along so as Cody stood there arms crossed and pouting I laid down and closed my eyes.  The orderly reentered and scolded Cody into compliance. After five minutes she returned for a final time to send us on our way. Two hours after entering the complex we left feeling let down by the hot springs, our travel guidebook, the municipality website, and our limited Spanish language skills.  

Back in our apartment, to improve our spirits we drank two bottles of wine, ate cookies and for the first time in South America watched an English language movie, the enduring  classic, Rocky III.  As the wind howl through the night I was lulled to sleep by dreams or Mr. T's mohawk and feather earring, determined to make the most of what had turned into a silly and unnecessary detour by climbing to the summit crater of Volcán Copahue the following day. 

The discharge of Lagunas Las Mellizas with Volcan Copahue smoking in the distance

We awoke to blue skies and sparse high clouds. I eagerly hurried Cody along to start what was to become a 7 hour, 13mile hike up and down a volcano.  His stomach was still bothering him and over the first few hours we trudged along the high desert terrain until reaching the shore of Lagunas Las Mellizas, twin lakes with the western lake a technicolor blue rimmed with dark blue, the color of the night sky.  The lake was surrounded by red, orange, yellow and green slopes of plant displaying their fall colors.  

The technicolor lake and hillslopes

Wandering the moonscape above the lakes

Cody climbing up the steep, loose slopes of Volcan Copahue

We followed the trail and saw no one, passing a sign that told us to stop and turn around because of the danger of an active volcano.  Undeterred we slogged onwards through a moonscape of pyroclastic rocks and lava flows.  Ahead of us, in the distance lay the smoking crater of Copahue puffing skyward like a steam engine on full bore. We hiked upwards until the trail disappeared and cutting across steep hillsides of black tephra sand splattered with the glassy yellow fragments of elemental sulfur.  

The sign we chose to ignore

Feeling like a real geologist on top of a volcano

The summit crater, once a lake fed by melt water from the ash covered glacier on the far right.

After 4 hours, we stood on the windy rim of the summit crater looking into what was once an acidic lake but is now a cauldron of toxic fumes fed by the melting ice of a dirty glacier.  From our position we could see the yellow sulfur lined caldera below the wall of layered ice.  We were grateful to be upwind the spewing acrid fumes impressively spouting skyward before cascading down the lee side of the mountain. The wind and sand scoured our skin reducing our time at the summit to mere minutes rather than the hours it deserved.  We retreated, impressed with the force of nature, descending what had taken nearly an hour to climb the in less than 15 minutes skiing down the loose sandy tephra slopes with our poles and boots.  

Descending the steep slopes of Volcan Copahue.

Our hike back to town while windy was beautiful. I enjoyed crossing the jumble of crumpled lava flows, the dirty remains of a small dry glacier, and the glacial polish and striations smoothing older lava flows as we made our way back to the lake shore.  The shield volcano, Copahue, is a stratovolcano that has been erupting sporadically since 2012 with the most recent eruption in 2015. I feel lucky to have gazed into its roaring belly unscathed.  We hiked back to our apartment along the north shore of western lake, marveling at its beauty and where we had just stood. Having not seen another person for the entire day we reveled in the solitude, fortunate to have shared the day only with each other.  The events of the day more than making up for the mishaps and misunderstandings of the previous day. Tired we returned to our apartment and packed, preparing for our travel northward that would continue the next day.

Glacier polished lava flows. So cool!

In an attempt to limit back tracking we continued off the main trail and made our way northward along Ruta 40 by bus. Passing through ancient folded sedimentary rocks thrusters and uplifted into beautiful anticlines and synclines I was in geologic heaven.  Continuously being told we can't reach Mendoza this way,  Cody relentlessly asked for a bus to the next town north. Somehow linking together a string of small pueblos and in 24 hours we made 7 bus transfers taking us from Copahue to Caviahue to Las Lajas to Chos Malal to Buta Ranquil to San Rafael and finally to Mendoza. Every stop along the way we were met with the same questions, "Where are you from and why are you here?"

Another feeble attempt to capture the turquoise lake and black sand beaches.

Waves breaking as the wind rose on our hike home

Beautiful mashlands surrounding Lagunas Las Mellizas

A simply beautiful day.

Saying goodbye to Volcan Copahue

My collection of elemental sulfur.
 Cody only let me keep two pieces.

In Buta Ranquil we had a six hour layover. Our overnight bus left at 11:45 pm and we were perplexed as to what we would do with our 4 backpacks during that time other than sit in the bus station. The bus left us on the side of a road next to a tiny tienda and told us we would be picked up there by our connection.  Uncertain we had fully understood the driver Cody asked 3 more people to confirm and it turned out bus station was the tiny tienda. The shop owner kindly offered to store our bags in an out of service phone booth and we set off to wander the dusty, windy town in search of food.  We did not find an open restaurant but we did find one paved street, a beautiful park centered around dead sap covered tree surrounded by travertine benches, streets lined with tall trees, a statue of the Malvinas, and many abandoned, dilapidated buildings. 

The biggest hamburger ever and a mountain of fries in Buta Ranquil (look at Cody´s giant beard!)

We walked through town twice asking  locals where to find a restaurant only to be met with perplexed stares and directions to places that appeared to have been closed for years. By luck we stumbled upon the freshly painted building bearing the name "Facefood". Borrowing heavily from Facebooks iconography, Facefood proved to be a small new restaurant specializing in fast food. The proprietor approached us as Cody cupped his hands to gaze into the closed building. Taking pity, they opened early to feed us at the ghastly hour of 7 pm as most Argentinians do not eat until 10 pm or later. Off their limited menu (we only had one option) we ordered a hamburger and french fries.  Little did we know we had ordered a hamburger the size of a dinner plate covered with fried eggs, bacon, cheese, tomato, and lettuce. It was accompanied by 5 potatoes worth of french fries deep fried to crispy perfection. Cody and I finished almost half the food before giving up, feeling the grease bomb roiling in our guts.  Unable to travel with leftovers on our forward journey we painfully left the remains of our meal on the table sad to waste so much food. With 4 hours remaining we returned to the tienda to play cribbage and wait for our midnight ride.

The main fountain in Plaza Independencia, Mendoza

The overnight bus from Buta Ranquil to San Rafael followed bumpy gravel roads making sleep nearly impossible.  Arriving in San Rafael as the sun rose we made our final bus transfer and three hours later after 27 hours of travel we finally stepped into Mendoza.

Mendoza is a city unlike any other we have visited.  Tiled sidewalks, shaded by tall trees are lined by cobbled irrigations ditches. Beautiful colonial architecture is paired with walking malls and 5 large squares complete with fountains, tile work, sculptures and murals.

The beautiful tile mural and sculpture in Plaza España

The handpainted tiles covering Plaza España

Tiled benches in our favorite of the five main squares, Plaza España

Plaza España

Hanging out on the walking mall

Cody surprised me with flowers from the San Martin walking mall, brightening my day and our room at Hostel Mora.

The city crest lit up at night in Plaza Independencia

Fountains in Plaza España

Tile mosaics covering planters along the walking malls of Mendoza.

Cody and I immediately felt at ease in the warm sun and dry air of this desert oasis. We found a lodging at the comfortable Hostel Mora, located near the bus station and began our preparations for our next climbing destination, the high altitude walls of Los Arenales.  

Wine is always better when it comes out of a penguin spout

Our days in the city were spent buying supplies and wandering the streets. Mendoza is the winery capital of Argentina, known for its red wines, olive oil and food.  Only a few hours to its west stands the snowy Andes Mountains and South America's highest peak, Aconcagua adding a striking contrast to the trellised rows of the many vineyards.  We enjoyed our time in town eating amazing dinners out and drinking house wine served in penguin shaped pitchers. 

After the disappointment of the Copahue hot springs Cody was determined to give us a hot springs experience before heading back into the mountains.  Our travel guidebook recommended a spot outside of Mendoza and Cody figured out the buses and details while I unenthusiastically played along. 

Fun in the sun at Cacheuta

We caught a morning bus south to the resort town of Cacheuta with minimal expectations. Our spirits rose when we're dropped off at an entrance booth rather than a confusing medical facility.  With a simple entry fee we were granted access to over a dozen pools of various temperatures spread out amongst xeriscaped terraces. Set within a canyon of vegetated red granite cliffs the location could not have been more picturesque. We spent our day soaking in the hot tubs, sliding down water slides, and swimming in the lazy river circling the tiered pools.  Feeling redeemed, refreshed and relaxed we were finally ready to return to the mountains.

Only a fraction of the pools at the Cacheuta hot springs

Enjoying the solitude of the lower pools.

A beautiful oasis in the desert.

Cody after a trip down the waterslide in the background

Soaking my weary hips and legs

Travel can be fun but traveling almost always has its frustrating moments.  For every place that exceeds expectations there will be at least one that falls far below the mark.  We are lucky to experience only infrequent disappointment so far on our journey. This adventure, while remarkable in so many ways is still part of life. And in life when things are rough, if you just give it time and look back later, rarely ever were the disappointments that bad.  We wandered off the trail and made our way back, readying ourselves for the unknowns in our next chapter.

Love to all of our family and friends. We are having an
awesome time (even on our misadventures)!

Frey - Bariloche, Argentina

Like any place spanning vast latitudes and geologic diversity, Chile and Argentina provide more than any person can experience in their lifetime. Our time in Patagonia was inspiring and life changing but many more places lay ahead and the season was changing. As the days grew shorter and colder our only reprieve from the inevitable Patagonian winter was to start north.

Sunrise over Cerro Catedral and Lago Toncek

Seven hours by bus whisked us from the lush green farmlands of Chile to the dry, high desert surrounding the lake region in Argentina. We arrived in the Bariloche bus terminal on the outskirts of town above the shores of Lago Nahuel Huapi.  With help from tourist information, we deciphered the local bus system, bought a transit card and traveled into the heart of the city. 

It was four in the afternoon and Cody was anxious to be on the first bus, at seven the following morning, to our next climbing destination, the granite spires of Frey.  I was less optimistic and enthusiastic about his proposed timeline. Tired from travel and daunted by finding an adequate hostel, grocery shopping, and packing I felt overwhelmed by the prospect of heading back into the mountains so quickly.

The night time skyline above Refugio Frey

The mountain weather had been good, despite the late season filled with sunny, warm days and minimal wind that if we were lucky would extend throughout our stay. But mountain forecasts can only be fully trusted a few days out.  Our forecast called for only another few days of warmth followed by cold, erratic weather that would not be conducive for climbing. A fear of missing out loomed over us.

Optimistic as always, Cody and I hope the forecast was wrong and good weather would last longer allowing us to climb what we wanted. That night we shopped, buying seven days of food whose burdensome weight strained our arms as we carried it. I spent our walk back trying not to think of how it was going to fit in our already full packs. 

It looked so easy at the time

By 11PM gear and food lay scattered across the bed and floor of our room. Cody had gone out to add more money to our bus pass so we could get to and from the access point. Exhausted from a day of travel and unwilling to punish my body more I crawled into bed with my tasks unfinished. Cody returned after a frustrating but successful wander through the dark streets of Bariloche to find me curled under blankets. Finally acknowledging the unrealistic expectations of his initial plan he cuddled up next to me, prepared to finish packing in the morning. At last, we were both looking forward to tomorrow and catching one of the hourly busses departing the city center for Cerro Catedral, the trailhead to Frey.

To Cody's minor chagrin we left the city center at 11 AM. Our backpacks were stretched beyond their maximum capacity carrying climbing and camping gear, 7 days of food and my Kindle, which had inexplicably stopped working the previous night. Every step and movement was trying and all I could do is think of the destination rather than the journey that we knew without saying would be one of the hardest yet.

The 10 km trail from Cerro Catedral to Frey discreetly climbs 1000 m wandering across high desert hill slopes covered in orange daisies. Charred tree trucks, evidence of a past wild fire, halfhazardly leaned across the trail and hills like the blacked bones of giants strewn amongst a sea of green and gold. Below our ever rising position broad blue lakes reflected the gentle yellows and greens of the surrounding mountains in their glassy waters.

The day was hot and still. In cutting ounces from his load Cody left his hat in storage at the hostel and sun and exertion gave his face a ruddy glow. What was supposed to be a 4 hour hike feels much longer with every second ticking by in painful slowness. Hour markers rather than mile markers line the trail taunting, 4 hours to Refugio Frey, 3 hours to Refugio Frey, 2 hours to Refugio Frey, 1 hour to Refugio Frey.

3 hours into our journey from the vacant ski town of Cerro Catedral and 1 hour from Frey I stopped at a picnic table next to a stone shelter and waited.  Cody laboriously lumbered to my resting place in obvious agony.  His stomach has been bothering him for over a week and today was one of  he worst days so far.  With perspiration running down his grim face and back he looked like a dead man walking.  "I can take the rope," I said.  Cody looked at me glumly and replied, "No you can't, you already have too much." He was right.  My 65L backpack was bursting, filled beyond its capacity with climbing gear, a tent, sleeping bag, warm clothes and half of our week of food.  With every step my hips ached and my nerve damaged left foot perpetually numb while the scar tissue around my healed tibia prickled with incessant pins and needles.  While not sick like Cody, I was still suffering. 30 minutes of rest and a handful of granola bars later we trudged onwards.  The alerce trees thinned and stubby lenga trees brandishing vibrant fall colors surrounded us with whimsical beauty.  We continued, resting every 10 minutes until an hour later, with our backpacks perched on boulders in attempt to relieve their strain, we saw a few hundred yards ahead the silhouette of a two storied stone house, the Refugio Frey. We had made it.

A few of our campsite and the valley we hiked up to get there

Living the dream during a sunny afternoon
 at camp

Frey encompasses Cerro Catedral which consists of two cirques crowned with spires of golden granite of which 35 or so are commonly scaled by rock climbers from around the world.  Behind the stone building of Refugio Frey lies Lago Toncek, a beautiful cirque lake with light blue water rimming a black center indicating a precipitous change in depth created by scouring ice in the not too distant past. From above eskers, sinuous sediment deposited by rivers formed under glacial ice are visible through the shallow water at the head of the lake. The Refugio Frey offer food and shelter, for a cost of course, 365 days a year.  Camping is free above the lake and in summer Frey is a popular place for trekking and rock climbing and while in winter backcountry skiers enjoy the open snow covered slopes. According to the guidebook the climbing season in Frey ends sometime in February as the weather becomes stormy and unpredictable.  We arrived on March 24 hoping for the best. 

The day of our arrival was beautiful with sunshine and no wind.  We observed parties climbing on Aguja (Needle) Frey as we set up camp on the leeward side of cirque overlooking the narrow valley we had just ascended.  While a campsite with an overview of Lago Toncek and the many towers crowning above it would have been more beautiful we were pleased with our location, equiped with stone benches and a low wooden table. We also hoped to avoid the worst of the abrupt and strong winds coming off the mountain that are known to destroy even the strongest of tents.  After our first night we spent the remainder of our time in Frey alone on our side of the ridge, basking in perfect solitude.  

We spent our first full day climbing two routes on Aguja Frey, 5 minutes from the Refugio doorstep unwilling and possibly unable to walk further. Our hips, knees, and shoulders ache but climbing moves our body in a different way and it is easy to cope with the discomfort.  

Summit selfie from Aguja Frey. It is impossible to beat the view.

The view from inside Refugio Frey

By the end of the day, only a handful of tents remain amongst the talus.  In less than 24 hours Frey had become our private paradise.  We watched the sunset in the valley and alpenglow illuminate the hills and rock faces. Falling asleep under star filled skies and the far off glow of Bariloche in the distance we eagerly awaited the rested bodies and another day of adventure.

Mate on the deck

Mountain weather changes quickly and instead of the sunshine we anticipated our morning was met with rain. We made a cozy home in our tent waiting for skies to part and sun to dry to the rock. In the afternoon the sun broke through the clouds and wind quickly dried the walls. Cody and I sat on a platform by the lake drinking mate in awe of the beauty surrounding us. We stared longingly at the clean walls of the tower, La Vieja, hoping to climb it the following day.

Inside the Refugio Frey

Climbing on La Vieja. It was cold.

The next day was colder and windier. We climbed two routes on La Viaje, both with fun parts and harder parts. It was mostly cloudy and at times so cold my legs shook as I hung at belays. From the summit we could see a higher hanging lake. Beautiful spires encircled us from both cirques separated by the steep moraine we had climbed on the approach. We looked at the towers creating the skyline and tried to not think of the long hike awaiting us the next day. 

The trails of Frey are merely the path of least resistance up the grus and talus. Boulders stacked in precarious ways act as the base for most pathways above long loose slopes perched above rocky cliffs. Cody bounds over perilous terrain without hesitation while I move slowly, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, doing my best to never look too closely at the exposure. At times I struggle with approaches, mentally unable to detach myself from the potential consequences of a misstep. The mental battle can be more taxing than the physical demands. For me, climbing approaches are frequently far worse than any climb. A heavy backpack and steep, exposed  trails drain my selfconfidence while a single rope and the weight of gear on my hips provides mental fortitude. I am lucky to have a partner who is understanding of my fears and trepidations, supporting me when I struggle and providing a crutch when I need it.  Without Cody my adventures would be different and I do not know if I could be as brave. He can bring out the best in me and for that I am most fortunate.  

Cerro Catedral and Lago Toncek

Our final approach in Frey was a surreal, bittersweet affair. We left camp shrouded in dense fog, unable to see the the dozens of towers above us as we climbed the moraine above the lake. Unable to see carins in the opaque mist we spent two hours traveling up trail, off trail and across loose hillsides to arriving at an eerie plateau below the spire, Aguja Campanile and our intended route.  We navigated the morning with no more than 30m of visibility ahead of us. Now as we stood on sandy flat ground of the Campanile Plateau the moist air thickened and we could see no more than 10m in any direction. Tired of uncertain and aimless wandering in the fog we hunkered behind an overhanging boulder, trying to hide from the wind and the mist. For 2 hours we shivered, ate snacks and did jumping jacks in an attempt to stay warm. Knowing how long the route was and our ability we had set a turnaround time that would keep us from having to navigate the trail back to camp in the dark.  As the hour or retreat  approached by we prayed for clear skies and before us a hole appeared in the fog, showing not only a sliver of blue sky, but Aguja Campanile standing tall on the horizon above us.  Unwilling to wait any longer we took off towards our elusive spire as it disappeared back into the fog.  The mist had thinned and what had previously seemed a desolate and sinister expanse became a beautiful apline plateau with tufts of green grass, a pristine meandering stream, and beautiful free standing boulders, some the size of cars and other as large as houses.  The skies continued to clear as we approached the base of the climb.  We ate lunch at the base and languished that climbing was impossible.  Despite our best efforts; the icy wind, wet rock, and relentless fog reinforced the miserable state of the day. The skies continued to clear as we hiked back to camp but the hour was late.  Prepared to try again the next day we snuggled into our sleeping bags. 

Hail!

Pizza and beer, yum.

We were awoken at 3AM to an army of snare drums above our heads. Lightening flashed, followed by the deep rumble of thunder as marble sized hail bounded the thin fabric of our single walled ultralight mountaineering tent. Each bead of hail sent a mist of the condensation that had accumulated on the inside of our tent walls as we slept. Zipped fully into our mummy sleeping bags the water saturated the moon of our faces and drenched the down we so desperately need to be dry for warmth and comfort.  After a fitful nights sleep we awoke to more rain that cleared by late morning. Cody and I hiked up the ridge above camp and gazed down at the lake and up at the cirques accepting that our climbing in Frey was over.  Lamentful, we broke down camp and dried our gear as the sun broke through the previously thick clouds allowing us to bask in its warmth. With bags packed we enjoyed pizza and beer in the Refugio before hiking back to the bus stop.  We completed what had been a grueling 4.5 hour hike up easily in less than 3 hours.  I was grateful the 10km passed quickly but my knees and back ached from moving so rapidly with a heavy pack.

Downtown Bariloche

After our hustle down hill we just caught our bus but unaware of the bus route we missed our stop and added an extra 30 minutes on to our adventure.  We spent 3 days Bariloche, wandering the historic downtown and waterfront, catching up on life tasks, completed our taxes, and planning the next part of our journey.  As we packed our bags, we shared a bottle of wine, followed by a giggly dinner of roast wild boar and honey glazed carrots.  As Cody enjoyed his third quarter kilogram of ice cream in as many days I reflected on the many adventures behind us and the many ahead.  We were on our way to a remote hotspring resort town at the Argentina-Chile border and would then move on to Mendoza, where sunshine and wine tours would hopefully offer reprieve from the wild weather and rigors of Patagonia.