I just returned from an excellent adventure, hiking in Patagonia. I spent seven days exploring spectacular trails in the Argentine province of Santa Cruz that’s also known as the gateway to the icy landscape of that country’s Glacier National Park. During long treks, the group I traveled with climbed high above treelines and against the famously gusty winds of the region. The experience was invigorating and the physical efforts were always rewarded with breathtaking views. And yet as much as I loved discovering the area on foot, I have to admit that my favorite part of the trip was the boat ride.
That’s right, the boat ride. A big catamaran, to be specific.
In Puerto Bandera, on the sandy edge of a sprawling cattle ranch, our group boarded an 80-plus-foot commercial rig designed to transport tourists over Lago Argentina to the base of the immense Upsala Glacier that’s fed by the Southern Patagonian Ice Field in the Andes Mountains. As we pulled away from the dock, the crew shared details about the lake, including the fact that it’s the largest freshwater body in the country (546 square miles), has a maximum depth of 2,359 feet and reaches an astonishing 1,775 feet below mean sea level. It is 15,000 years old, and like most lakes in this area it’s fed by the glacial meltwater of several rivers. That explained its milky turquoise color, which to my eye looked as inviting as the water in the Caribbean, only about 30 degrees colder.
The wind was whipping as the catamaran picked up speed, forcing passengers to claw their way along the grabrails at the side decks as they moved toward the bow. There was a stiff chop too, but even so, the boat’s wide beam created a stable ride and made it that much more enjoyable for everyone to take in the view.
And what a scene it was—otherworldly in its raw, cold beauty. There were the snow-capped mountains rising all around us, and on the water’s surface, rising from the deep, were the tips of the icebergs, glowing blue-green in the morning light. They were scattered all around, and it seemed the skipper had to be vigilant at the wheel to dodge the structures.
At one point, the captain nosed the starboard-side hull alongside a centuries-old slab of ice. It was as long as a house, and the passengers crowded together at the edge of the bow to get a better look. With expert throttle work, the skipper got us so close it was almost possible to reach out and touch it.
The passengers whooped as we backed away from the iceberg, exhilarated by what will most likely be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for many of the people onboard.
So, yes, there is a lot to be said for discovering Patagonia, and the outdoors in general, when you’re wearing a sturdy pair of hiking boots. But for me, outlook and perspective deepens everytime I’m in a pair of Sperrys on the deck of a boat.
Jeanne Craig
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