I woke early to board the 7:30 bus from Calafate to Chalten. Well. That’s not totally true. I boarded the 7:30 shuttle to catch the 8:00 bus to Chalten. Which didn’t leave for much later still. But regardless. I was up early. On my bus I saw Russell and Lisa again, a Canadian couple we first met in Bariloche. Like I said, small, small world.

The bus took us bouncing along the rocky, dirt road through the dusty, windy, barren landscape of the Patagonian steppe, where herds (or is it flocks?) of strange, flightless birds sprinted from our rumbling wheels.

That afternoon I arrived in Chalten, a frontier-like town with ramshackle houses and restaurants and a population of just about four hundred. The roads are dusty and brutal and aside from the dirt consist largely of river rocks that make walking them as uncomfortable as driving them. The town is located in a pleasant albeit windy valley and is surrounded by miles of rock bands and steep cliffs carved into the hillsides. These rugged brown and red cliffs of granite climb from the grassy valley of Chalten, while the river winds its way off to the glaciated mountains far in the distance.

I am staying in a little hotel on the east side of town, and as I noticed just yesterday morning, if the weather remains as agreeable as it has been - we have had seven days of near cloud-free skies, an event virtually unheard of in Patagonia - then I have an uninterrupted view of Fitz Roy right from my bedroom window.

Chalten is only twenty years old. It’s the result of a border dispute with Chile. As a result, it’s rugged and random. There’s no pavement. There is no ATM. No cambio. Bring pesos or good luck getting home. But this frontier feel is also part of its charm. Chickens and horses and dogs roam around with the trekkers and travelers.

I arrived in town exhausted from another late night at the pub in Calafate, but with weather like this, I knew I had to take advantage of the sunshine. I packed a light bag of essentials and made short work of the trail out to Laguna Torre for the views of Cerro Torre. I arrived at the lake in just over two hours. I sat out in the sunshine and looked out at the lake and the clouds blowing around the imposing granite peaks. The following day I made the longer trek out to see Fitz Roy and the shimmering blue Laguna de Los Tres. I waded around in the pure, blue, glacial water, resting my feet from probably twelve hours of tromping over these hills over the last two days. The water was clear and clean and completely potable. When you buy that expensive bottled water and it says it’s bottled at the source of some random glacier, you know in reality it’s all probably right from some laughing guy’s garden hose in France. I promise you this: when you are standing in a frigid, blue lake and filling your water bottle, staring out at the white glacier cascading down from the slopes of Fitz Roy, you can be absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent sure that you are getting the water right from the source.

Patagonia is both a climber’s dream and utter nightmare. Just driving in from the steppe, you can see the glacier-encrusted peaks of the Patagonian Andes looming blue and white in the distance, ominous and imposing. And then you see Fitz Roy and the other jagged, granite spires around it, a toothy, fearsome grin. A three-thousand-foot stone incisor biting right into the sky. All the walls climbing up out of the glaciers that surround them and beset by the howling Patagonian winds while the clouds and storms envelop and enshroud them. I have known climbers who have come to Patagonia and spent a month never to have even seen those walls.

I guess I got lucky.

Chalten is also surrounded by miles of amazing granite cliffs. Most of it an easy walk right from anywhere in town. At first I was devastated that I didn’t bring my gear. Then I learned that amongst all that wonderful rock, only a handful of climbs have been developed. It’s virgin territory, and as I have virtually zero experience with finding, bolting, and cleaning routes, I suddenly don’t feel so bad that I’m leaving tomorrow. However, I may have to send my climbing partner down here on a mission for a year or so with his drill and a bag full of bolts. Just one sight of this place and he might relocate, and Lord knows, it wouldn’t take much to keep me in Argentina.

The rest of Chalten and some really goddam big rocks are right here .