Crossing Patagonia: El Chalten

El Chaltén appears to us like a lively and dynamic village. It may be for the fact that we have been dreaming about arriving here for days, or because the way up to this point gifted us with not a few unexpected setbacks through remote places far from civilization. The fact remains that when we arrive, amid the dust brought by the incessant wind, El Chaltén appears before us almost like a mirage.

There is a particular air here, the air you can breathe in La Thuile in winter, where in the evenings, over beer and pasta, you decide on which side of the mountain you should descend the following day, or at Camp 4 in summer, at the foot of El Capitan, where you talk about and feed on climbing day and night.
El Chaltén is a place that makes you feel part of something, because you have the clear feeling that each of us is here for the same reason, for the same need. Maybe this need isn’t strictly related to climbing, but to the search for beauty: a free, wild, often harsh and unpredictable beauty.

Everything exudes strength here. The Fitz Roy and the Cerro Torre’s peaks rise like steeples of an enormous gothic cathedral that constantly shower snow and rain on your head as soon as you draw near their slopes, making you feel small and powerless.
And then you’ve got the lakes rippled by the wind, and the enchanted forests, where the trees that slowly collapse on themselves creak as if they wanted to make their presence felt for the last time before becoming dry wood.
Life appears simple but fascinating here, imbued with hope and mysticism like the life of true dreamers – and there are many of them here. And so were our days in El Chaltén, intense but lived lightly, among magical and unique places, stories of more or less heroic adventures and a lot of dulche de leche.

Authors: @wanderlost_2022