About this blog . . . .

In the introduction to his book, PATAGONIA - At the Bottom of the World, Dick Lutz wrote: "Patagonia is a region, not a country. It spans the southern third of Chile and Argentina, stretching between the Pacific and the Atlantic roughly from Puerto Montt, Chile and Peninsula Valdes, Argentina south [until] it meets the famous waterways of the Strait of Magellan, Beagle Channel, and Drake Passage (or Drake Strait). The northern limit of Patagonia is ill-defined, while the border between Chile and Argentina divides the region." Patagonia is sparsely populated, so much so that in 1991 the Hudson volcano erupted and no human was injured, even though this eruption was larger than that of Mt. St. Helens in 1980.
Ivan and I have been eyeing this area for a visit for quite some time. The possibility is great that we will see penguins, guanacos, Steamer Ducks (Flightless as well as Flying!), as well as many dozens of other remarkable animals and birds, to say nothing of the insects, reptiles, mountains. I'd better stop here. Writing these blogs has been a source of much pleasure for me, so if you follow us on our trip, my hope is that you will learn something about this unusual place, and will have a bit of fun reading of our adventures and, in some cases, misadventures!
REMEMBER TO READ FROM THE BOTTOM UP! The latest post will be at the top of the page, with earlier posts below it.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Dec. 12 - Hilltop views and . . . !

So, we trudged up the narrow trail and were occasionally aided by thick ropes that had been tied to trailside trees. I actually felt sort of sorry for the trees because some of the people, who should probably NOT have gone up this trail, were quite, shall we say, large. I hope that someone removes the ropes in the offseason to let the trees expand their girth too! Once at the top, we were all exultant!
Everyone was sweating and some looked like they may soon need resuscitation, but it felt good to see the glacier from this new vantage point. We wandered around a little and Enrique, guide for our group, Drake, stationed himself near a sort of cliff and discouraged errant walkers from getting too close. The view was wonderful and the sounds seemed even more loud and serious. I quickly spotted a bird I knew - the Rufous-collared Sparrow, but there were not many FFC's to be seen.
Eventually, we were all standing staring at the glacier, listening with growing excitement as the cracks became thuds and then became booms! The sounds seemed to be coming from the right side area, but, really, how can one tell what part of a glacier is about to fall into the water? Several of us had voted for a particular part of the face that had a big slab that stood upright, but seemed to be getting more separated from the face of the glacier. On this photo, I made a big (but thin, once again) circle around the part we thought was about to fall away:

(Boy, that circle is really thin - sorry! I made the picture as big as I can. The circle is toward the right side of the glacier face and even extends into the water.) All eyes were glued on that big crack to see if it was getting bigger. Some of us thought it was, but we, of course, had no way to measure. Finally, Enrique said we had to head back down the slope to get the zodiacs back to the boat. After much booing and jeering, we waited until almost everyone had headed down the trail, and reluctantly did so ourselves. Again, please understand that I am NOT making this up! As I turned around and started down the trail, there was this tremendous BOOM! accompanied by shouts of joy and delight from the 3 or 4 people who were determined to be the last ones off the hill! I raced back to the summit, but the thing had already collapsed into the water! That whole, entire slab of ice had calved off the face of Pia Glacier - and I missed it! Dang! Now the water on that side of the bay was full of big chunks of ice, floating their way to oblivion.

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