Los Arenales, Argentina - Valle de Los Cóndores, Chile

The granite walls of Los Arenales peeking through the clouds

The rock of Los Arenales, a canyon of clean granite ribs divided by steep sandy gullies, towers above loose talus slopes and a pristine alpine arroyo.  It was our next stop for climbing, following the winter winds of Frey and misadventures along Ruta 40. In preparation, we enjoyed a comfortable life in Mendoza, Argentina as a storm blanketed the Andes dropping over a foot of snow at the Los Arenales refugio. 

As we waited for the weather to improve, a friend from Cochamó arrived in Mendoza with two fellow Americans. We decided to head into the mountains together and share the cost of the mandatory taxi that would take us to the trailhead.  Our bus left early on the Sunday before Semana Santa (Saints Week; the week of Easter). Sundays and holidays are never the the best days to travel in South America.  Busses are limited and amenities such as grocery stores and tiendas are often closed. As it were, the city bus took us from Mendoza south to the pueblo, Tunuyán. In Tunuyán we learned our next bus, to El Manzano Histórico, did not leave until late afternoon.  We were soon joined by another American climber and now as a group of six formed a mountain of backpacks and haul bags along the wall of the bus station.  Filling the hours with pastries, fruit and empanadas we waited watching bags in shifts while others explored the sleepy town.  The climbing guidebook had said we could hire a private rural taxi in town but try as we might no one would take us saying there was too much snow on the road. 

Gringos and our gear

Uncertain to what awaited us we boarded the bus to El Manzano Histórico and spent the next hour passing beautiful vineyards set on flat land below the snow capped hills at the foot of the Andes. The snow line looked low as we gazed up filling us with trepidation. Stepping off the bus, we were met by Yagua, a weathered mountain man with a white beard, wide set sparking blue eyes and a generous smile.  His van, a battered white work horse with a welded roof rack, scarcely fit our gear and bodies but somehow we loaded in and made our way up the twisting road to Los Arenales.  Like Cochamó in Chile, Los Arenales sits in private property and Yagua is one of the owners.  A nonprofit organization, Piedra Libre (free rock), composed of climbers, works with the landowners to allow access to the incredible formations of the canyon. 

Ripping up the winding gravel road, the six of us passengers felt centripetal forces as we passed cars and cut corners on our way to the border station.  Wedged between backpacks and bodies without seat belts we simply trusted Yagua's knowledge of the road, his rickety van, and competence driving.  Los Arenales sits close to the Chile-Argentina border and you are required to register at the border checkpoint before heading into mountains.  As we climbed in elevation large wet snowflakes began to fall from the sky.  

Our little green tent and home in the mountains.

We arrived at the border station to find it closed to vehicle travel adding an extra 2 km to what was supposed to be a 1 km trek. While usually, 3 km of hiking is nothing impressive, at almost 9000 ft asl, a 50 lbs backpack and 20 lbs of food on you front feels significantly more challenging.  An icy wind blew down valley and snow fell steadily from the sky as we put down our heads and started the steep walk up the switch backed road.  Staring up valley with no gauge of distance but time without warning the refugio appeared before us.  I let out a whoop of joy and grinned stupidly with relief, grateful the hike was hard but not close to the difficulty of those in Cochamó and Frey.

We arrived to find a strong collective of climbers camping near the refugio, including two more friends from Cochamó. With limited options amongst the sticker bushes and sharp grasses we found a tight bowl shaped space behind an expedition mess tent and made our home for the next week. Exhausted from the day of travel, hiking and cold we made a late dinner, crawled inside our tent and fell into a dreamless sleep.  As we slept the skies cleared and moon rose illuminating the white granite walls and our tent as if it were in daylight.  

Hayden sport climbing in the sun

The next morning we awoke merrily to sunshine and clear skies.  Snow was visible above the refugio and rather than suffer through a snowy day we chose to go down valley to a sport climbing crag above the guard station.  With poor information, we followed faint trails, most likely created by the mules grazing in The Valley, until they disappeared forcing us to bushwhack through talus slopes and prickly bushes. Off trail, many of us, including myself fell into a bush at one point or another adding slivers to our fingers and hands. The sport climbing was unremarkable but the view up canyon of snow covered slopes and the sunshine on my skin was amazing.  I struggled hiking at altitude and my elbows ached making it painful to lift my backpack and coil the rope; but the day was spent amongst friends and was thoroughly enjoyably. 

Climbing into the mist

The next day started the same as the previous, sunny and clear.  Cody and I set out to climb a classic alpine route that started about 11000 ft asl. Camp sat at 9000 ft asl and the approach lay up grueling and treacherous slopes of loose sand, and later snow and frozen talus. We reached the base of the route and were greeted by a pile of snow and shade.  We wasted time before starting, trying to convince ourselves it wasn't really that cold.  The first pitch was freezing and my fingers and toes screamed as I jammed them in the icy cracks.  As we started the second pitch the sun kissed the wall and we instantly grew warm enjoying the splitter cracks and incredible exposure.  The glory did not last long. Slowly and yet quickly thick fog rolled into the valley minimizing visibility to no more than 30 m in any direction.  Cody loved the ambiance, but I found our surroundings eerie and nauseating as we floated inside our alpine ping-pong ball.  The river running through the valley roared far below us and even high on the wall, through the thick mist, the sound of rushing waters grounded and comforted my nervous disposition. 

Up we go

Cody in search of our next rappel

The climbing was beautiful, clean, and enjoyable but we had difficulty finding the rappels in ghostly soup as we descended a different route than the one we climbed.  We had started the day hoping to climb two routes but as conditions deteriorated and after spending more than an extra hour on our lengthy rappels we had run out of time.  I had no interest in stashing gear as we did not know what tomorrow would bring so we packed up our bags and skied down the steep talus arriving at the refugio in less than half the time it took for the approach.

Dinner time in the refugio

Kristin slabbing on a boulder
near camp

I awoke the next morning surrounded by fog and feeling poorly.  I spent my morning draining pus from my finger as a result of a difficult sliver before retreating to the tent with a migraine. The day passed quickly and Cody climbed sport routes on boulders near camp with our friends.  That night as we made dinner in the refugio Argentinians danced tango amazing us with their rhythm and movement in the small space.  

Hayden soaking in the sun at a belay ledge

Loving the sunshine in Los Arenales

Summit selfie!

Cody preparing to rappel

The next two days we climbed memorable routes under sunshine and in thick fog. Our day of sun was refreshing and marvelous as we scaled 1600 vertical feet of moderate terrain.  Across the valley we could see a beautiful clean wall covered in fluorescent green lichen.  Determined to climb it, our second day on was spent shrouded in cloudy, misty, cold.  The day would have been miserable if not for the impressive climbing.  Like our first long route in Los Arenales we met snow on belay ledges and our fingers were constantly frozen.  But the climbing engaged us and we forgot about most of our miseries. The striking green wall was strewn with a spiderweb of cracks making for an excellent adventure to its summit.  Hiking back to camp we knew a wet tent and sodden possessions awaited our packing.  A multiday storm lay on the horizon forecasted to dump over a foot of fresh snow. 

So many splitter cracks

Enjoying a chilly day in the mountains. What a view!

Pitch after pitch of perfect climbing

Leaving Los Arenales with less food and lighter packs. Life is good.

For the first half of our weeklong stay only a handful of others shared the sleepy valley.  But as the week grew to a close and we prepared to leave, scores of people arrived for an annual climbing festival over Semana Santa weekend filling every uncomfortable tent pad from the gravel road to the refugio. Neither of us were ready to leave, but the weather dictated our departure so as the refugio and surrounding area filled with climbers enjoying their long weekend we departed in search of warmer and drier conditions.

We left Los Arenales in a thick mist that transformed into a drizzle and then to rain as we walked the 3 km back to the guard station. We hoped to catch Yagua as he made his way up the road as we had no other means to make it the 13 km back to El Manzano Histórico before the bus arrived at 11 am.  We timed everything perfectly and Yagua arrived just as we passed the guard gate.  Three of the four Americans we had traveled with were with us, the other having left several days earlier to meet a friend in Santiago.  As we cruised down the long gravel road the light rain became a deluge. Unwilling to leave us exposed at the bus stop, uncovered alongside the highway Yagua took us to his home where were shared mate with his wife. The bus picked us up from his door step and we road buses back to Tunuyán and then Mendoza without complication. 

Gringos fully loaded on our way to the
bus station

Waiting for our bus in Talca

It was the Saturday before Easter and accommodations were not available at Hostel Mora.  Without a place to stay the five of us chose to forego more time in Mendoza and catch an overnight bus to Santiago, the capital of Chile, on our way to the desert sport climbing destination of Valle de los Cóndores.  We crossed the chilly high altitude border at 2 am with glazed over eyes and arrived in Santiago at 6 am.  By 7 am we were on another bus, heading south to to the town Talca.  Talca is a historically important Chilean city where the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1818. Severely damaged in the 2010 earthquake it has yet to fully recover. We restocked our supplies for another week in the mountains and waited for an afternoon bus.  A final bus took us from Talca to the end of the line past the small pueblo of La Mina leaving us at a small hot springs resort.  It was 5:30 pm and after a van ride, four buses and over 32 hours of travel we stood only 30 km from our end objective. 

A traveling band of gringos weighed down by gear

It was now the evening of Easter Sunday and streams of people were driving down valley but only a handful of small cars were heading up and no one was stopping for five gringos and a mountain of backpacks.  As the sun began to set, I mentally prepared for a night time bivouac aside the road. A man approached us and offered to drive us and our gear to the climbing area in two loads for 40000 pesos.  At about $12 per person it was well worth avoiding the open bivy and hitchhiking the next morning.  Cody and I went first taking 80% of the group gear while our friends waited patiently.  We flew up the steep and winding mountain road at 140 km/hr passing trucks cutting turns.  As I grew car sick in the back seat we passed the campground and drove an extra 10 km reaching the Argentina border station before turning back.

Camp at sunrise

With Cody, myself, and the gear dropped off the driver went for our friends and we set up camp as the darkness enveloped us.  We were greeted at our camp site by the American who had left Los Arenales early and his friend.  Valle de los Cóndores was suddenly a gringo haven as we were now seven Americans camping together in the Chilean desert. As the night grew late we curled up in our tents comfortable under the vast starry desert sky.  

The view from El Carvel

We awoke with the sun, excited for a day of basalt climbing in the desert.  From friends we had heard of a crag called El Carcel, the prison, composed of columnar basalt.  Having climbed columnar basalt in Oregon and Washington we were exited to see what Chile's version had to offer.  To approach the cliff band we rappelled off a vertical face, containing a via Ferrata, an iron rebar ladder drilled and glued into the rock, that would later be our escape. Carefully, we wandered down broken cliff bands and steep talus slopes to the mouth of a massive cave.  

A view of El Carcel

Marcelo and Cody climbing the basalt columns

At the back of the cave basalt columns stood straight and true.  Below us, a lazy river meandered through the canyon and above us a tiered waterfall poured life into the dusty landscape creating a living wall of succulents and green grass.  The hexagonal blocks of El Carcel were no more than 18 inches in diameter, smaller than we any we had climbed before.  After the icy approaches and freezing temperatures of Los Arenales climbing with friends under the desert sun felt like cheating. We climbed almost every route of the wall, leaving only when the sun fell below the horizon.  Ascending the Via Ferrara at sunset we were met with a raging waterfall pouring over the cliff side.  It had been scarcely a trickle when we descended hours before but water had been released from a damed lake up river and the river was now a torrent of churning and frothing water.

Hanging out at the base of the columns

El Carcel

The waterfall and living wall

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The remainder of our week was spent sport climbing with friends on the bullet proof cliff band adjacent to our campsite.  For days we never walked more than 5 minutes from our tent before finding a worthy climb and it was marvelous. 

Camp and our proximity to climbing

Hayden stemming it out

Kristen and Hayden on their final day climbing in
South America

Inside the refugio at Valle de los Cóndores 

Our week was not without some hardship and a day of heavy rain trapped us in our tent, becoming a forced day of rest dividing days of climbing in the sunshine.  My elbows were bothering me significantly and I was unable to climb as much as I wanted. But Cody climbed well and with so many friends it was easy to find partners.  

After a week in the desert we were in need of a shower and my elbows needed a break. For the first time since leaving Cochamó we ate almost all of the food we had carried into the mountains leaving only with a few snacks.  Our friends had left early in the morning to catch flights back home and we climbed a few routes while drying our tent and sleeping bags making it to the road in late afternoon. 

Hanging out in camp under the desert sunshine

With minimal effort we hitchhiked directly to Talca and were dropped off at the bus station.  We caught the last bus to Santiago arriving just after midnight.  Hoping to make it to Valparaíso, a city on the Chilean coast.  As buses were not running until morning we feebly tried to find a hostel.  After several phone calls and a no desire to spend money on a taxi for 6 hours of rest in an unknown hostel we commuted our night to the Santiago international bus terminal. Under flourescent lights I tried to sleep on uncomfortable benches made of 2 inch aluminum pipes while Cody read his Kindle and kept an eye on our possessions.  During this long and cold night Cody learned from a security guard that a bus to Valparaiso left at 4:30 am. So as the hour turned from late to early we boarded a bus and fell asleep immediately.  We awoke as we pulled into the Valparaíso bus station feeling like we just closed our eyes excited for a little vacation from our vacation.

Another beautiful view

Climbing has driven my relationships, vacations, and lifestyle for more than a decade.  The places it has taken me and people I have met are constant reminders as to why I seek out adventure in the mountains and along cliff bands.  With Cody I found my partner in climbing, adventure and life but with friends I have found my tribe. A place of inclusiveness where you belong regardless of the grades you climb or language you speak.  I look forward to meeting these friends again in the states or abroad.  We are lucky to have shared time with them and I can only hope we enriched their lives as much as they enriched ours.

Sunset in Los Arenales