Around and about in Ushuaia

After spending a very enjoyable two weeks hanging out with our fellow vanlifers, eating too much and drinking too much, it took us a day to recover enough to move. We decided it was high time we started to actually visit the town itself and do some of the awesome hiking in the area. Most people were heading out today, the second of January. A few of the keen ones had left on New Year’s Day, but most people were nursing their hangovers and opted to leave the following day. Suddenly the camper village rapidly dwindled, with just a couple of vans remaining by the time we too headed out. We decided we’d spend a few days around the city and surrounding area.

We thought it’d be nice to get in a hike, and we drove up to the parking lot of the Martial Glacier. We got all our hiking stuff on and set off for the start of the trail. We didn’t make it any further. A little ticket booth now stands just beyond the steps that climb out of the car park. A woman flagged us down and told us we had to pay. We looked confused. We didn’t think this was a paid hike; several people we knew had been already and no one had mentioned a charge. She brandished a laminated sign at us. She told us it was $10 per person, and that included the car park and access to the toilets! Wow… how generous. There was no way we would be paying $20 to hike to some snow. From what we’d heard, it wasn’t much of a glacier anyway. So we headed back and left. There are so many better hikes we knew were free. It seems that, like everything else in the country, the tourist tax was coming down hard. This particular hike is very easily reachable from the city centre, and so I suppose it was a prime target.

We drove back into town. If we couldn’t hike, then we’d tick off some of the “must-do” things in town. Our first stop was the obligatory tourist sign and passport stamp. We got the photo and then walked over to the tourist office next door where you can pick out a stamp and stamp your own passport.

We strolled along the waterfront with its various shipwrecks and stopped for another tourist photo at the letters.

We debated where we’d camp that night. While we pondered the situation, we headed into the supermarket to get a few bits. As we perused the vegetables, we noticed Sheri and Jeff. We had first met back in Puerto Madryn, and we knew that they were around as they had spent New Year with Mark and Liesbet nearby. We got chatting, of course, and it turned out that the alternator on their car had broken, leaving them stranded. The car was in a shop, but not much was really happening, as is the usual way of things. They were living in the car at the mechanics and getting quite frustrated. They were also on quite a short deadline for their trip, and so every day in the workshop was really a day wasted. At least our breakdowns don’t really eat into our time limit on the trip. Still, we know how it feels to be stuck and frustrated and alone, and so we asked if they wanted to go grab a drink and escape for a bit, which they happily accepted. We agreed to meet at an Irish pub called Dublin in about an hour.

By the time we had finished our shop, dropped it off at Ruby, and headed up to the pub, they were already there. We slid in next to them at a small table in the corner and ordered a couple of pints. We had a pleasant evening chatting and sipping our beers. It became very clear to us that we were in a completely different league of travelling. A lot of our friends are long-term travellers and, as goes hand-in-hand with that lifestyle, they live on small budgets. Jeff, however, was contemplating flying to America to pick up a new alternator, an idea that to us was just insanity. They, however, travelled for short periods, working back in Canada in between. They had money and limited time. They were happy to spend money and enjoy the time they had — it was more of a holiday vibe. We had all the time and no money, as we had clearly demonstrated by refusing to pay $20 to hike earlier. We were from different worlds. But that was OK; we still had common ground.

As the hours passed and the drinks dwindled, we decided that we’d order another beer and get some food. Lee had found a picture on Google of one of those ridiculous pizzas that you sometimes get here. We’d last eaten one in Córdoba; it’s got eggs and chips on it. Again, the stingy part of my brain said it was the best-value one on the menu as you got a portion of chips and the pizza. The greedy part of my brain agreed — the more carbs the merrier. Even though it wasn’t on the menu we were given, the waitress said they could still do it. It did not disappoint and was actually incredibly good. It also fed us for two days! Jeff eyed it with some thinly disguised jealousy; if the repair took any longer, he’d come back for one of those, he told us.

By the time we left, it was getting on a bit. We debated staying in the car park where we were, but it was quite noisy parked on the main road. Jeff had recommended a spot to us just out of town, which we also debated, but the wind here was a fickle beast. In the end, we plumped for safety and headed back to the train station. At least we knew that there we would be sheltered. No one likes the 3am gale.

After our failed hike of the previous day, we decided that we would head to the Vinciguerra Glacier. This is out on the other side of town, but it wasn’t clear if we’d be able to camp there. We decided that we would drive out to Playa Larga and go for a hike down the coast there. It’d be a good warm-up for the much bigger glacier hike. It wasn’t really a surprise that in the car park for this hike we bumped into the Colombians. Even though the vast majority of campers had headed out, there were still quite a few of us around.

We spent a pleasant couple of hours hiking down the rugged coastline on an easy trail that hugged the cliffs, with views out to the bay. About halfway down we met our friends on the way back to the car park. It was popular with locals too, stretching their legs on a Sunday afternoon.

Our friends had decided to stay the night in that car park, but we thought we’d try our luck up at the start of the glacier hike. If we could get a space up there and stop, then we’d be able to hike straight out of the van in the morning. It was a popular hike, like most hikes around here, and so we wanted to get a head start on the crowds. If we couldn’t camp, we could always come back down here and sleep, we decided.

Despite the fact that this is a very popular hike, there is no infrastructure at all. Unlike the other glacier, with its car park and toilets, this is a small dead-end road with a barrier. There’s no car park and not even a sign that you’re in the right place. As it’s such a small narrow road, you can’t even park on the sides. Even arriving at the end of the evening, there was no space in the two tiny parking spaces on the side. It seemed that most people doing this hike arrived by taxi. They then finished the hike, went to the local “brewery” to buy a pint and use the Wi-Fi to order a return taxi. We decided to leave the camper a little way up the hill in a spot that we could hike from if we had to. Then we also walked down to the brewery, plonking ourselves down next to groups of tired young Israeli backpackers. From here we could see the parking, and we decided we’d grab a drink and, when a space cleared, quickly grab the van and claim it. The waiter said it’d be no problem if we slept there, and that was enough for us.

While it’s called a brewery, it’s more like someone’s house. They serve one beer and there are some empanadas in a plastic box if you really want them. There are a couple of seats outside on a balcony and more inside, with the fire roaring. Even though it’s summer, it’s not warm once the sun dips behind the mountains, and soon we saw the appeal of the inside seating. The unfortunate backpackers next to us had to leave in a hurry as their taxi arrived. They left their nearly full pints behind, which we were quick to minesweep, before heading inside to the warm. The beer was OK, but we were still waiting for our parking spot, and there was no way I was paying for another pint at that price.

Finally, in the dusk, a car left us a space. We paid up and moved down. We were now in the prime position. We had the flattest space there was — still wonky, but tolerable — and we were just a few metres from the start of the trail. Perfect for the morning.

After a pretty noisy night, which featured a symphony of dogs and chickens at all hours, we got up and loaded our rucksacks for a long hike: coffee, water, lunch and snacks. We had heard a few people already starting the hike, but we were confident we were still ahead of the majority.

The first few kilometres wind through buttercup-strewn meadows that line the riverbanks, cutting through the valley as it descends from the glacier. It’s a flat and easy trail; the hardest part is navigating a peaty, boggy section that they are in the middle of building a walkway over. Luckily we hadn’t had much rain recently, and so we picked our way through without getting wet feet. Then we reached the bridge over the river and picked up another path made of logs sunk into the mud that headed into the forest.

From here, the ascent begins. We climbed steadily through the forest. I acquired a walking stick from the surrounding beech forest.

We stopped for a snack and a drink as it levelled a little. There is a split in the path here: turn off to the left for the glacier or continue straight ahead towards Laguna Encantada. The glacier is definitely the more interesting of the two hikes, but the laguna is also supposed to be beautiful and less frequented. We decided that we would do the glacier first and, if we had energy left on the way back, we’d extend the hike out to the laguna too. For now, we continued onwards and upwards admiring the weird fungus/fruits that grew off all the surrounding trees. Despite what you might think, these are actaully edible as we learned later.

The majority of the steep section is in the forest. As you break from the trees you arrive near the river again and out onto an open flat section. It’s boggy again and they’ve made a small walkway to help you cross.

Ahead is the final climb. After a grassy flat plateau, the path heads straight up the rock face ahead. The glacier and its lake sit just behind. It’s a short section, but it’s pretty steep. We are not in exactly peak physical condition here.

Still, we hit the bottom of the slope and started to plod our way upwards. It’s slippery gravel and steep too, so I was glad of my newly acquired walking stick. There were a few people around us, but it wasn’t overly crowded as we slowly gained ground. We hardly saw anyone coming down, so that was a sign that we were still in good time. After another half hour of climbing, we finally reached the lip. The lagoon spread out before us in its icy blue glory. Barren scree slopes and rockfaces rose out of the icy water on all sides. Snow-capped peaks glistened high above on the highest parts of the mountain range, while at the back a glacier hung over it all. Even though we were hot from the climb, we hunkered down behind some crudely built rock walls to shelter ourselves from the icy wind that whipped across the water. It was beautiful and cold. It was the perfect time to enjoy a nice hot coffee and catch our breath before heading around to the glacier itself.

It’s the first time I've ever walked on a glacier or even seen one, for that matter. I always wondered if that blue colour you see in photos was a result of editing or if it really looked like that. We walked a further kilometre around the side of the lagoon and behind a small hill at the back to actually reach the ice field. From afar, it doesn’t look like much, as the surface is covered in small rocks and pebbles, so much of it doesn’t look that different from the normal surface of the mountain. Up close though, you could properly see the ice and hear it too. The rush of small streams could be heard flowing under the ice and at some points little mini waterfalls had formed as it melted. Not only did you hear the running of water, but the cracking of the ice — sometimes loud, almost like a gunshot. At some points, the melting edge of the glacier even produces blue ice caves. Today though, we didn’t get to see one of those, but we did see with our own eyes that bright blue colour apparently really does exist within these walls of ice.

Now we had to go back. I would say that at least it’s all downhill, but actually I find hiking downhill is worse. I slipped my way down the gravel scree, with my knees complaining. Still, at least we had made it back to the final level stretch by the river before my walking boots disintegrated.