Oktoberfest, Leavenworth Style

Good ol' Leavenworth, Washington...where I called home for nearly six months this year. The small town in at the base of the Cascades in central Washington is a good base camp for hiking in the Enchantment Mountains, paddling the Wenatchee River, riding your bike through endless fruit orchards and my favorite summer time sport, tourispectating - watching throngs of tourist take over the place in all their slow driving, picture taking glory. It's hard to say that Leavenworth is a sleepy little town, but its small and on the east side of the Cascade crest. However, it has two seasons that offer tourists an excuse to travel the two hours from Seattle over Stevens Pass to a whole other world that probably voted for Dino Rossi in the past two elections.

 

The summers are usually hot and dry giving access to rafting and kayaking the Class III Wenatchee and floating the mellow Icicle with a case of beer. Winters provide a good home for skiers of the cross country and downhill types. Year round it's a convenient location for bachelor and bachelorette parties to overrun with limos, penis straws and AXE deodorant. Let's not forget the shoulder seasons though, and we will focus on Fall because I have never been there in the spring. The Autumn Leaf Festival held at the end of September is a family event with a parade, decorations and...well I don't know what else they did because it's a boring family event. However, the next weekend starts a three consecutive weekend binge known as LEAVENWORTH OKTOBERFEST!

Leavenworth's Oktoberfest isn't just another festival in a tourist town, it puts Leavenworth on the map and on Oktoberfest top ten lists across the country. The former welfare town turned itself into a Bavarian village in the 1960's that draws tourists from all over the world. The scene is perfect for an Oktoberfest in Washington, at the base of Tumwater and Icicle Canyons, there is a tall mountainous backdrop and waterfront parks, the town even changed its building codes to accommodate Bavarian style architecture and chain restaurants like Starbucks and Safeway have signage to fit in with the theme. You can't escape the cheesiness that gives Leavenworth its tactful charm in an unexpected place.

 

During the first three weekends of October, Leavenworth residents are in heaven and hell. In a town that lives off the profits of bratwurst and year round Christmas decoration shops the increased business is welcome, but with everyone travelling on the main drag makes it's a pain in the ass to go grocery shopping. As of 2010, Leavenworth's population was just under 2,000 people; each Oktoberfest weekend on average draws in an extra 10,000 people. It's one hell of a party!

 

This is my second Oktoberfest and I am still not sure what goes on in the official Oktoberfest tent. I took a tip from those that grew up in town and they said the official festivities are not worth the $20 ticket. In there you pay $5 per beer, have nowhere to take a piss, have to listen to polka all night long and did I mention pay $5 for a beer! Living just two blocks away from the festival, I spent the evenings on the front porch with my roommates and a case of cheap beer. We would have a bonfire and watch the mayhem pour through the streets, drunk girls whored out in dirndls (my roommate calls them Heidi-Hos), drunk frat boys in lederhosen, drunk middle aged coupes carrying two liter beer steins, families scurrying back to their cars before dark and at one point we even took shots of Jager from some folks passing by.

Once primed, we would take to the town and try to find a bar. Leavenworth usually only has two bars that stay open until 2 AM, many until only 10:30 or so. During Oktoberfest you have to get into a bar and prepare to lock down unless you want to go back to your hotel early (you probably paid around $200 for the night, it's ironic you don't want to spend any time there). The bars are full by 9 o'clock, so it's best to hunker down and not leave for another bar. After last call I like to take my usual route home through the alleys avoiding the flush of drunk drivers on the streets. In the alleys you are bound to find casualties of war. Girls passed out on the stairs leading to a restaurant's backdoor, cell phone in hand, wearing little clothing and cold October temps setting in for the night are common, their male counterparts are even worse off. I never knew if it was more proper to just let them be, or risk waking them up and being attacked by them or a witness.

The second weekend of Oktoberfest there is even a marathon! I doubt most people who do a marathon of drinking partake in the athletic festivities the morning after. If they do, they are in a class above the fastest runners. Each Oktoberfest morning there is a sprinting contest to get to the most comfy breakfast in town. It may not be the best breakfast in town, but there is only one place that offers stiff bloody marries, a warm fireplace, ESPN and plush leather couches that swallow you and your hangover whole. That is the place we reflect on the crazy shit from the night before, laugh at who hooked up with who and decide whether to keep drinking all day. That's Das Vegas.

Read more: Oktoberfest, Leavenworth Style http://earthwalkersmag.com/index.php/component/myblog/oktoberfest-leavenworth-style.html#ixzz1dsDW3ZIq

Back to Blogger

Backed by absolutely no demand, I am going to start posting on this site again. In the coming days I will post some of my recent blogs posted at http://earthwalkersmag.com/community/all-blogs/blogger/FUNemployed/ and start posting new stuff on both sites.

Just as a heads up I am back in England for about a month, new experiences to share.

Same blog, different site!

I am going to switch to using a different site for my blogging for a little experiment. You can read about my next adventure, a road tip to Mardi Gras at http://earthwalkersmag.com/community/all-blogs/blogger/FUNemployed/

Buenos Aires II & The Return to USA

The day following our meeting with the inspiring Argentine was good for recovery as we napped the day away while it rained and got up to go get some awesome pizza, then another nap and then ventured to the bus station to nail Ella's exit strategy. On the way back we hit up a well recommended restaurant known for its grilled red meat. We drank beer and coffee while we waited for our massive orders of steak to arrive. Ella had tenderloins drowning in bleu cheese gravy and I downed an amazing top sirloin with grilled veggies. This restaurant truly paid homage to the gaucho culture, complete with a taxidermists’ collection that would have rivaled Teddy Roosevelt.

Overly stuffed we hailed a cab for “La Catedral,” a tango club across town. We got some very cheap Stellas or as Ella calls them, “wife beaters” and scored a table near the dance floor. Apparently ordering Stella Artois in the UK is like ordering Icehouse in the US, then again the only public place I have seen Icehouse drank was on a bus in Seattle. The décor was something I would expect in a hipster northwest place, but for some reason it felt authentic in that club with very high ceilings, a collage of furniture and one very bright light shining on the dance floor reflecting just enough so the band can see their instruments. The dancers were in varying wardrobes from a birthday boy dressed like Mike The Situation to the older gentlemen in suits throwing women around in fluttering dresses. I felt like a total gringo tourist, but forgot about it as we scanned the room to see everyone was fixated on their romantic dates or on the other dancers.

After we felt that we gleaned enough entertainment to justify our cab and cover charge we cabbed it back to the Flores neighborhood near Ella’s hostel and found a café that was open around three o’clock. After introducing her to a screwdriver the previous night she ordered some while I was in the bathroom. They were probably the most high class screwdrivers I have ever had because the juice was freshly squeezed while we waited. After a chicken sandwich I made it back to my dorm by four, with only one bunkmate amongst the eight beds.

I woke up to a full room a few hours later. One gentleman was dry heaving, another draped a blood covered hand over the edge of his bunk and a gal had a head of hair that hid her face making her look like Cousin It. Ella and I assumed a normal tourist day after the longest breakfast ever, Milka was not a fun place to be. We visited a Starbucks, were solicited for AIDS relief donations in the plaza and crossed a 10 lane street to see an urban loner bike program. Frappichinos in hand (dulce de leche and black cherry mocha) we strolled through some city parks admiring statues and Santa’s Village built entirely from recycled Tetra-Paks!

We stumbled into a nice neighborhood and noticed that all of the really old and beautifully designed buildings were all embassies. It inspired us to track down our embassies!..after a trip to the cemetery and lunch. The cemetery was beautiful, yet after visiting the one in Punta Arenas it was not as awe inspiring as everyone said it would be. The resident cats were an attraction all by themselves, I was more interested in them than Evita Peron’s grave. Good thing I didn’t feel compelled to track it down because we could tell the skies were going to open up and rain. Us beerhounds are planners and had found a brewpub next to the cemetery for lunch.

The sprinkle outside turned into a downpour by the time we got our menus and the streets were flooded by the time we got our taster. Mmmmmm, Ella reminded me that I cannot travel with people who do not partake in fine indulgences (yet Brenda and I got through her distaste for tequila while in Mexico much to her displeasure). We picked our pints from the sampler and ate lunch with a front row seat of people getting drenched in the Buenos Aires street.

As the city dried itself out we decided to track down our respective embassies. I made the precursor joke that mine would be the cement monolith with the big metal fence around it. She retorted that hers would be similar as Great Britain had fought a war with the Argentines. It turns out we both were spot on! Hers looked like a Hilton built in the ghetto and the US embassy looked like an above ground bunker.

After experiencing our own ethnocentric cultures abroad we nabbed some pizza, munchies a bottle of vodka for $3.00 USD, Cuban rum for $10.00 (splurge), and a bottle of fernet and headed back to her house/hostel for a multicultural house party. We listened to Sublime, some Americans *cough, cough* beat some lousy Brits at beer pong and got to eat some spicy pasta. Contrary to popular belief, there is little spicy food in South America, I am truly grateful for one of our hosts dousing some pasta in chili flakes.

The hospitality was extended to the spare bed I got to crash in for a few hours before Ella and I arose from the dead for breakfast and ice cream around 11:00 AM. We had just enough time to buy her some souvenir fernet (apparently she likes to punish her siblings with terrible tasting liquor as a Christmas present) and then rushed her and her gear off to the bus station. That night I went out and found myself eating a calzone and watching a concert on TV in a café. I walked out of the café still hearing the same music. I took a tip from Toucan Sam and followed my senses and the concert on TV was in the plaza one block away. It truly made me feel like an idiot, but I fought the urge to buy beer from the coolers on the sidewalk and hung out for a few songs.

The next morning, the last full day in BA, I ran errands mailing postcards and last minute purchases before heading to the BOCA JUNIORS MATCH!!!!! A soccer team that had a strong following in Seattle for their 2010 friendly appearance combined with the reputation for diehard local fans would surely be a great experience, right? The game was better, but maybe I am partial to Seattle fans, but I think the whole stadium at Qwest is more into the match than at La Bombanera. Granted that the opposing team's supporters were throwing M-80’s into the keeper’s box and the Boca supporters never stopped cheering during the match and I mean never. I did find it fun that to get our reserved seats we became honorary season ticket holders for the night, their ticketing system is a bit different than ours and so are the concrete bleacher seats.

Josh shared a similar sentiment of the game, yes he made it back into town just in time to get on the bus for that. That night we packed up for the umpteenth time and the next morning were on a flight back to Bogota, where we had a hostel booked for our last night on the continent. After a quick nap in the hostel warding off any more possible evil stomach spirits we went out to stock up on Juan Valdez and Aguardiente for home. For our final meal in Colombia we had some Mexican food, which rivaled what we could find up here, I was rather impressed.

The next morning we cruised through security in Bogota, but not after I had to ditch about 10 lbs of coffee and dirty clothes into a carry-on. Apparently my whole bean and alcoholic souvenirs put me over the weight limit. On the other end of the flight the trip through American customs made me feel almost welcome at home and being in Miami, I forgot to start using English again as everyone there spoke Spanish. It was a way different story in Dallas as the first thing we saw when we got off the plane was a large kiosk promoting W’s new book. Yay :( I did get to enjoy some fine “Yes, sir. No, sir.” hospitality while getting some barbecue in the airport.

A few hours later we were touched down in SeaTac with our luggage and about 45 minutes after that I was in a bar with a good friend drinking Black Butte, it felt good to be back.

It took me a while to settle in and get into the groove of not having a job or buying bus tickets every few days and I took a few weeks to unpack. The most interesting thing I found while unpacking were my anti-malaria pills. I should say the most interesting part really was the place I found them…the pouch where I kept my allergy meds. I cocked my head to the side, did some mental math and realized that the reason why my allergies were so bad in Argentina was that I was taking the wrong damn pill!

Buenos Aires I: American Food and Tomorrow's Youth

Oh Puerto Madryn, beautiful sunny beaches and mammalian sea life…time to leave it behind, at least for the morning. For the first time on the trip I would be crossing off a bicycle from my list of transportation modes with a mountain bike rented from the hostel. I cruised up the beach for a couple hours and found an awesome dirt track for some quad/motorcycle action near a shipwreck. On the way back I faced a horrible headwind that made me forget about how strong the sun was. I returned with a sunburn with finger marks on my back from where I missed applying the sun block (the tan lines are still here three months later).

Well after packing up I talked with the hostel owner about soccer, apparently he is actually a fan of one of our Seattle Sounders Alvaro Fernandez, he didn’t expect the city that produced Nirvana would have a team. At the bus station I met a true saint and it came in the form of a twenty something blonde wearing a “Denver Hockey” shirt. Her sainthood came from the Costco size jar of Jif peanut butter in her backpack, her one comfort object for the five months in South America. I told her it was a wise choice as she let me knife out a nice wad of the hydrogenated goodness.

The bus trip to Buenos Aires was a good finale with a comfy window seat, no one to sit next to, three consecutive Wayans Brothers movies (which kept my nose in my book), bottomless wine with dinner and a night cap of about five ounces of whiskey to savor before bed. Needless to say I woke up with a slight headache as we sat in about two hours of traffic before reaching the BA bus station.

Well I couldn’t check into my hostel room until the afternoon so I hopped on the internet. When checking my email I saw Ella was on Gmail and it turns out she was in a hostel about 13 blocks away. With nothing else to do, I headed out to meet her. On the way I encountered one of the biggest challenges of BA life, finding an ATM with cash! Her new housemate pointed us in the direction of a nice tourist attraction/café where we got some very mediocre burgers and ventured out to see some scenery. That afternoon we saw a weekly protest in one of the plazas, a monument to Christopher Colombus, a really interesting pedestrian bridge, the naval museum and finally we both had our first experience in a Hooters!

Ella’s housemates had invited us out to a club for the evening so we headed back and tried to find some empanadas on the way…no go. So we sought out some McDonalds to quickly fill our bellies before a night of drinking and possibly dancing. Big mistake, it costs more than the steaks we would eat the next day and took longer to prepare, it really is a delicacy abroad. That night we made it to an expat club called Sugar, where we schemed to use the girls in the group to give me access to the ladies night special of free wells until 11. For some reason we were there until 3:00 drinking rum and apple juice and discovered our mutual distaste for fernet and coke.

We cabbed it back home with her friends and decided we weren’t done with our first night on the town…and this is where it might get drawn out, but the following sequence of events really blew us away. We walked towards the town center and met some kids looking for cigarettes, immediately they picked up on the fact that we were tourists (oh shit). One kid wanted to hang out, and when I say kid he was something like sixteen, but spoke excellent English. He told us we could probably find a bar or some beer over in San Telmo a short walk away and insisted he come with us. I didn’t hesitate much because I knew San Telmo was sketchy at that time of night and a local guide might not be bad.

When we got about 20 min away from the hostel I started to think, “A guide would be great, but this kid could be anything but a guide” and started reading every street sign I could and counting the blocks back to the hostel. By then we had been of talking all sorts of things with him, he and Ella discussed the impact of the Falklands War, or as it was known in Argentina La Guerra de las Malvinas. I was educated on the whole thing as before that night I would not have known where those islands were and I am a geographer!

We asked him what he was doing out so late during the middle of the week and he said he had to go to school the next day and such, but he was just doing his thing. He told us about his family life and history, I can’t remember the details, but it was not an easy situation. Well unfortunately no beer, just creepsters out in the early morning hours where every shop was locked up. Our innocent guide lead us back in the direction of his home and Ella’s hostel. On the way he wanted to stop for cigarettes, we insisted on buying them for him and he accepted. Normally I would not buy a sixteen year old cigarettes, but I felt better about it after he explained that you have to quit for your mandatory stint in the military so it’s just what the kids do before they enlist. He is a pretty smart kid, he aspired to be a policeman in his neighborhood following his service then work then become a lawyer to help settle future water disputes that may erupt from the vast aquifer Argentina sits above. We bid him farewell as he had to be in class in a few hours and still had a long walk home.

Ella and I were genuinely blown away with the kid’s intelligence, forward thinking and that our quest for beer and good times turned out to be a quasi cultural/history lesson. Talking about the night’s experiences we noticed that from our park bench on Av 9 de Julio the sun was rising…we really should start our day because sleep was not an option. However, after stopping into a café for empanadas and to quell our thirst for beer we were thwarted when we found out that liquor sales could not start for a few more hours. We settled for a few empanadas and Gatorade…then a few hours of sleep.

Glaciers, Whales and Penguins, Oh my!

The next morning we awoke and caught the bus to El Calafate in Argentina. Getting on the bus was like a reunion of sorts, we saw the boys from Seattle, a British chap we had met on the trail and Oliver, one of the first people we met in Cartagena! The ride provided us with the easiest border crossing. There was barely any conversation leaving Chile and while getting into Argentina I only smiled at the agent, not a single question asked. We then moved farther into Patagonia through the rolling hills and forest.

The bus arrived in El Calafate to overcast skies and weather a little bit warmer than Puerto Natales. With no hostel booked we started asking others what their plan was…everyone was in the same boat of no bookings. Josh and I scouted some of the hostel agents at the bus station, apparently no one books a hostel when coming into El Calafate. After some communication breakdown and arguing, Josh and I negotiated a price with a hostel agent and he drove us to the hostel…about a 20 min walk from town. I can’t really blame Josh, I get pretty grumpy when I get sick, but choosing the hostel was a turning point in the trip. Over a pot of soup we decided to split for the rest of the trip as he wanted to go north through the mountains to see Fitz Roy and I wanted to head east to the Atlantic Coast to see penguins. We decided for worst case scenario to meet at the terminal at the airport in Buenos Aires, hopefully we would have a hostel booked in Bogota for our last night on the continent.

Back in the private room we booked to keep other backpackers from shanking us because of Josh’s cough, I wanted to charge my camera battery before the trip to the Perito Moreno glacier the next day. Well guess what, my camera case was gone! I tore through my pack like a banshee with no luck, then I went back through the entrails with a fine tooth comb to find it. Nada. In my haste to return to the hostel from the internet café in Puerto Natales, I must have left my case at the terminal. Oh well, I had my camera, a card and battery charger, all of the essential stuff.

Back in town I struggled to find cash at the ATM’s as they were nearly out, but finally scored some cash and got myself onto a computer to communicate with Ella and Jamie who were still in the town with my camera. After that and a few calls to the hostel I figured I did all that I could to track down the case and would just have to wait until tomorrow. I relaxed with Josh over dinner where I had a nice microbrew and a heart attack meal consisting of steak, bacon, fries, and a fried egg. Delish!

I spent a large portion of my cash wad booking my glacier trip and went to bed. In the morning I enjoyed a breakfast that consisted of two of my favorite things, toast and dulce de leche before getting on the bus. This “alternative” glacier tour drove us through some back roads to reach the glacier where we visited a lake and made a stop at an estancia where we listened to the wind and saw a million dollar view. We arrived in the park and paid the entry fee, in return we got a map and get this, a small bag for litter. How’s that for a proactive park?! On the ride to the glacier the driver played “The Imperial March” as we rounded the corner to see the glacier for the first time…well played sir. I was awe struck watching truck size pieces of ice calve off and splash into the water. It was really hard to get a perspective on the glacier’s size until we were out on Lago Argentino, where a three story catamaran was completely dwarfed like a school bus next to a sky scraper. I was completely blown away by the whole experience.

After returning to the hostel I picked up my key for the room and the host said I had a package. The girls had picked up my camera case in Puerto Natales and sent it with some girls staying at their hostel that were coming to El Calafate. I couldn’t believe it when I read on the computer that it was delivered by Karen and Antje, the sisters from Punta Arenas and Torres! A bit later the girls walked in and were just as surprised to see me. When I said thanks for the delivery they both cocked their heads, they didn’t realize that I was the one who the case belonged to! We all giggled a bit and agreed to go to dinner so I could buy them a proper beer.

The next morning late night beers and ice cream I packed my bag before heading to Puerto Madryn. I needed to lighten my load so I decided to eat a lot of the food that was in my pack…not the best idea to eat loads of junk food before getting on a bus, but it did help me sleep! Five hours, a bottle of water and a milanesa sandwich later I was in Rio Gallegos and realized one of the difficult things about traveling solo, going to the bathroom in a crowded bus station with all of your gear. After that ordeal I got on the bus to Puerto Madryn and arrived to 80 degree weather and sunshine on the coast!

My hostel was half a block from the beach and was totally vacant. This was a total tourist town where all you do is the touristy things and move on. I booked a tour the next day (yeah, another tour, I was tired of doing things myself and the budget allowed for laziness) to go to Peninsula Valdez to see a laundry list of animals. There wasn’t much to do in town as it was another doggone holiday so I wandered the streets and took a nap.

Sitting in the back seat of a tourist van with three Brits about my age, we went whale watching under some pretty grey skies. Later they opened up to rain about three inches that afternoon as we scoped out seals, sea lions, armadillos and penguins! That night I ate dinner by myself, another big pile of meat and starch.

The aforementioned Brits were onto something…riding in luxury for long distances. I decided to indulge for my last long bus ride and go first class with a fully reclining seat, free alcohol and gourmet meals for the 15 hour trip to Buenos Aires. Sadly, they were sold out so I settled for the next step down which included a cama style seat, three meals and a good view. I bought the ticket one day in advance so I knew I had less than a day left in Puerto Madryn, rock on.

Torres del Paine

Well kids, it's long overdue, but here is what happened after that dramatic cliffhanger.

We left Punta Arenas on a short bus ride into Puerto Natales. There we left our bags at the bus office and searched out a hostel. Because we arrived early in the morning, we had some time to be picky. After visiting a few hostels and realizing that the Oregonian owned Erratic Rock was full we ventured back to a hostel on the Plaza de Armas that seemed decent. Our visit to Erratic Rock proved to be helpful as we were told about their ¨three o´clock talk¨ which answers every question you might have about the park.

Josh picked a fine local establishment for lunch, chosen because his guide book said that it had good sandwiches and the best book exchange in town. The book exchange was disappointing, but I got a peanut butter and banana sandwich with my own pot of earl grey tea so I was pretty stoked. After touring the town a bit and paying nearly $20.00 for some dried fruit and nuts for the hike we went to "the talk." The hour and a half discussion was based all around the parks features, trails, weather and how to prepare for the trip in terms of clothing, gear, food and route planning. We walked away with a lot of information and decided to extend our trip from three days in the park to four so we could complete the ¨W¨ trail. This trail included a catamaran ride to a trailhead, then venture along a lake to a camp near the base of a glacier, then return on the same trail and walk along a lake shore to continue up another valley full of hanging glaciers. After camping at the bottom of the valley we would continue along the lake and hike up another much deeper valley to camp at the base of Las Torres, the main feature of the park, three granite spires so steep they do not hold snow.

For the remainder of our final day in civilization we build a menu and shopping list and got some last minute supplies for the trip. FYI, anyone who plans to go to the park and wants to buy bread, DO NOT grocery at 8:00 at night. As a matter of fact, go to the store before you make your menu so you can see what’s in stock, we ended up taking canned food into the backcountry, not how I like to roll. Josh and I spent the remaining hours in the night breaking down our packs and repacking them with backpacking gear, so the luxury items were thrown into garbage bags and put into storage. While packing, one of the crazy bug bites on my leg started to act up. It caused my shin and calf to swell up and become very sore. Sore to the point that I couldn’t flex my calf muscles, I thought to myself I might just be doing a bus and boat ride for this trip. I went to bed praying for my calf not to be the size of my thigh in the morning because it was on pace for just that. By morning the swelling was down and like an old man’s hip my leg was pain free after a bit of stretching and cursing.

Our first day on the trail was great, there was sun and a lot of wind. The wind was tolerable because the temperatures were alright and there was no precipitation, yet. We boarded the boat, threw our packs into the heaping pile near the bow and sat amongst tourists from around the world (not a local in the whole bunch) drinking our hot chocolate. Once the boat arrived we were at what was essentially a resort. There were hotel rooms, a large camping area, hot showers, and an enclosed gazebo with hot running water and stoves piped with gas, all free for backpackers to use, well except the hotel. We ventured past this amazing locale after purchasing some bread and peanut butter and headed up to Lago Grey. This lake is named for the grey color that comes from the Grey Glacier that rests in the lake, unleashing icebergs pushed by the wind.

That night we camped on the lake, paying $7.00 each to camp in a tent we brought ourselves. That day on the trail we met Jamie a gal from Hood River, OR, Shin a nice kid from Korea (who had never been camping before) and Ella, a British gal who just got off an ocean research ship. We cooked dinner together and relaxed in the refugio, a small lodge in the camp, for some tea. That night while sleeping Josh and I were visited by a fox who tried to steal the food Josh had put outside the tent against the rangers´ warnings. I slept through the whole bit.

We awoke to a chilly morning, donned our hiking clothes, munched down some oatmeal, broke camp and trekked back to the lodge near the boat dock. We ate lunch in the luxurious gazebo consuming avocados and tortillas. Then began the death march, the route we were doing was usually set up for five days instead of four, so this was the day to make up some time. We would hike along Lago Pehoe, make camp at the base of the valley in Campo Italiano and then run up the Valle del Frances to see some glaciers and the backside of the Torres that the park is named after. We ran the first section of trail, completing a 2.5 hour trek in less than two hours.

After setting up camp we set off up the valley late in the afternoon with dinner fixins’ so we could eat at one of the higher camps. The wind was driving snow and rain into our faces and through our clothes. The conditions would have been tolerable if we knew there was some sort of refuge or great view at the end, but visibility was so low that turning back didn´t seem like a bad idea at all. We retreated to the camp and made dinner with the same crew laughing off the cold and enjoying some tea before bed...I remind you that the sun does not go down until well after 10:00, but we do. Falling asleep was difficult because it was so cold, but hearing the ice calving off the glacier upstream was somewhat comforting.

The night definitely was cold as we woke to about an inch of snow on the ground in the canopy openings. Being the first ones up, Josh and I were in the shelter boiling water and waking up Jamie, Ella and Shin. That morning we got a glimpse of what we had called “The Coleman House” the night before. This was a 10 man Coleman tent that had a large dish of uneaten casserole sitting outside the front door and left the smell of pot wafting into the woods. In the morning a crew was carrying a ukulele out of the tent and an empty bottle of Fernet (more to come about Fernet later on).

Ella furnished some fine tea that she pilfered from her research ship and served as good motivation for breaking camp. After breakfast we parted ways from the girls as they would be spending the night at the next refugio while we would lay down some big miles that day to cozy in for our last night on the trail. We took off ahead of Shin who would catch up with us. We made our way to the refugio at Los Cuernos which had a nice little dining room with a wood stove and a nice view of the lake. I used a bathroom that truly showed the impact that wind has on the landscape there…dirtiest bathroom I have been to outside a northern California dive bar.

We kept pressing on past the refugio without Shin and along the way had to put on sun screen and then snow clothes. During a break in the snow we stopped and had lunch in a small gulley. It was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich served with beer I have ever had. Though it was short lived because another snow flurry scooted us out of the gully and back onto the trail…at least it brought a nice tail wind. We finally made the shortcut up to our next checkpoint and battled uphill to the next refugio.

In the sprint to the next top we passed a few groups. Once we got to the refugio and inside we noticed the people we blew past were some of our hiking partners from the first day! It really is a small world on the trail there. After stopping for some overpriced instant coffee we entered a forest reminiscent of the northwest. There was a mix of deciduous and coniferous trees being snowed on as we climbed higher up the river valley. We finally made it to the Los Torres camp where we checked in with the rangers and setup our tent.

After using a toilet with plumbing for the first time in a few days I walked out to hear a “Chris?” in a woman’s voice. My first thought was, “All of the girls I have met on the trail are either not staying here tonight or are already here.” I turned around and it was Antje, one of the German sisters! We exchanged hellos and chatted a bit as we both froze where we stood. Her and her sister had just made it into camp and were doing a modified version of the “W” and were camping for the night. The characters in that camp turned out to be a lot of good people. While Josh was making an amazing quinoa curry preceded by the last of our garlic bread we chatted with three guys, two of which were from Seattle proper. We also were part of a Hanukkah celebration that night complete with lighting the menorah and singing songs in Hebrew. It disappointed Antje when she didn’t see us singing the songs because for some reason she thought Josh and I were Jewish because we had taken her to a hostel full of Jews. (It turns out that it was the time of year that the latest Israeli military cohort was ending their enlistment, so they were all traveling South America!).

The next morning Josh and I were up at 4:20 to catch the 5:30 sunrise on The Torres. We packed up our gear and headed up to the viewpoint which had quite a bit of snow at the top. Waiting with about 15 other people for the sun to rise we made water for coffee and oatmeal. We got to see a postage stamp view of the sunrise, but it the clouds on the mountain were too thick to let it penetrate to illuminate the torres. We ran back down to camp, Josh starting to feel a scratchy throat was not a good sign so we packed up camp and he headed down to warmer weather. I hung out a bit longer talking to Antje and her sister. As thanks for looking at my wound/bites back in Punta Arenas I gave them our last two beers that we had hiked with the whole trip. Even though they were a canned lager they accepted them and I was on my way down the hill with a young Canadian fellow who was on his first camping trip ever and travelling solo.

To meet our shuttle in time I had to hustle ahead of him, I was able to have some really nice views of Patagonia all to myself and literally run down the mountain with my light pack. I met up with Josh at the hotel where the shuttle would pick us up. There we had the option of a $10.00 USD cup of coffee or a $14.00 USD plate of fries, we passed and dried the tent outside instead. Oddly enough, here we were reunited with our waiter from the California Cantina from Santiago; he was traveling with the owner and the owner’s mother. On the way back to town we saw a guanaco give birth and the best view of the park was from the bus window as we were leaving!

Back in Puerto Natales we settled in with showers and because Josh was feeling sick I took the gear back to Erratic Rock and then we met up at a brewpub for some food…A great burger and dessert that was! We went on a liquor run to buy some pisco. They had a modest collection in the store, we ended up getting the best stuff they had at $12.00 USD per 750 ml. I wish we could have bought more, but at this point space and weight was becoming an issue. I retired to an internet café to check out some pictures and blog a bit. As my time ran out on the machine I hurriedly paid the attendant and jogged back to the hostel as it was very cold once again, but it was time for a warm sleep for our last sleep in Chile.