Kindness of Strangers

Thursday, January 22, 2008

We traveled thousands of miles around the world to see a block of ice.

I know, I know: it sounds crazy. But we were on our way north through Patagonia, and El Calafate, the gateway to Los Glaciares National Park, was an easy stopover on our way to Puerto Natales to begin a six-day hike through Torres del Paine National Park (more on that insanity later). And, it’s not just any block of ice. The Perito Moreno Glacier is one of the world’s largest, measuring the size of Buenos Aires. Having just visited Buenos Aires, a city akin to New York where you can walk for days and never see the other side, it was difficult to grasp the magnitude without seeing it for myself. But what really makes Perito Moreno unique amongst the world’s glaciers is its activity. Most glaciers just lie there, slabs of cold on Earth’s Barcalounger that move at, well, a glacial pace. But Perito Moreno is advancing at breakneck speed – at least by glacial standards – at one meter per day. The result? You can stand at the glacier’s edge and actually witness its movement.

Our small tour bus wound its way down the old road to the glacier, bypassing the caravans of high-season tourists on the main road. We passed through barren, wind-swept fields as clutches of sheep frolicked in amber grass and paraded through calafate bushes, a blueberry-like fruit native to this neck of the woods. The bright aquamarine waters of Lake Argentino, the country’s largest, sparkled in the early morning light, colored by glacial mineral deposits. Spires of meringue-topped mountains crowned in the distance, sharp as thumbtacks, a dramatic backdrop in this rugged landscape.

As we approached the glacier, the loudspeaker on our bus crackled. “Ten seconds to liftoff,” boomed a muffled voice. There was buzzing and whirring, as ground control continued its announcement. “What the hell is going on?” I asked Maikael. “Are we preparing for liftoff?” The music swelled, and as the opening notes to Superman soared through the speakers, the Perito Moreno Glacier filled our field of vision, a molasses river of blue-tinged ice pushing its way through ragged mountains. The bus erupted in a riot of applause: Patagonia Backpackers knew how to put on a show.

Over the next three hours, we were treated to a full sensory experience of the glacier. An excellent series of “balconies” provide multiple viewing opportunities of the glacier from a variety of angles, and boat tours lend an up-close-and-personal feel of the north and south faces. We jockeyed for position on the first balcony, and within minutes chunks of ice were falling from the glacier, causing waves of excitement to rush through the crowd.

The size of the glacier is deceptive. The smallest pieces, looking like snowballs, created a firecracker “boom” that reverberated through the valley. The glacier stands up to 60 meters, about 180 feet, above the waterline, the equivalent of an 18-story building at its highest point. (Imagine another 360 feet under the water!) What looks like a sliver often amounts to a five-story building crashing into the icy waters, creating a fierce splash that sounds like a freight train being lobbed off a cliff. We watched in rapt attention as the glacier repeatedly sloughed off tons of ice at an alarming rate: what looked like boats bobbing in the distance were actually icebergs. As we navigated through the waters of the glacier’s north face, the clear blue spires looming overhead, a mammoth block of ice cracked off, the biggest yet, creating waves that rocked the boat to and fro. It is difficult to grasp the scale of such a massive thing.

We napped on the bus ride home, exhausted. Who knew glaciers could be so exciting? Just as I drifted off to Dreamland, the blare of a thousands alarm clocks jarred me from my sleep, the opening strains of Time from Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album rocketing through the bus. It was time to get up – and onto our next adventure.