Patagonia Blues

El Chaltén: A New Space-Time

Text and photos by Alessandra Prato

El Chaltén is truly an outpost at the edge of the world. Permanently inhabited by a thousand people, in the summer season it transforms into an international hub for climbers, hikers, and tourists drawn to the iconic Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre mountain ranges.

I had come here as one of six climbers selected for the CAI Eagle Team project, but life is sometimes unpredictable. On the second day, a spinal inflammation sidelined me, forcing me to take a forced rest and endure pain that gave me no respite for a month.

In this remote corner of Patagonia, space and time seem to belong to a new metric. Distances seem to expand: endless approaches, immense glaciers, mountains that, rather than shrinking as they approach, appear even more imposing and inaccessible.

But it's the concept of time that becomes truly absurd here. As a hyperactive person, before leaving, I couldn't understand how climbers could spend entire months here to climb only once or twice. My only excursion to Nipponino made me understand why: every outing in the mountains is exhausting. You walk with heavy packs, the approaches are long, the bivouacs are difficult. The weather has to be perfect, otherwise the level of suffering increases exponentially, and windows of good weather are extremely rare, so you have to make the most of them, knowing how to manage the rest periods perfectly between them.

Recharge your batteries

El Chaltén has proven to be a place of waiting and relaxation. Life moves slowly as one passively awaits the sun's arrival: a different measure from everyday life. Doing nothing can be pleasant in good company, but in the long run, it drives one crazy.

Perhaps I can't give a completely clear opinion because I've never really been able to rest due to that constant suffering that tired me even in simple daily activities, not even letting me sleep. Even my friends from the CAI Eagle Team, however, return from expeditions and spend their time slowly, this suggests to me that

when you come back from the mountains the batteries are really completely flat.
The hardest moment in El Chaltén was undoubtedly saying goodbye to my companions who set off during the good weather windows, with their backpacks full of gear and dreams.

Alessandra Prato

One shot: I want to touch the rock of Patagonia

At the end of February, with one last chance looming and the doctor prescribing complete rest for my cervical hernia, I decided to risk it all. Pumped full of cortisone, and with my 14-kg backpack, I set off with Max and Cami for the Norwagos bivouac.

I finally touched Patagonian rock! We climbed the Mocho face, a solid granite wall with snow-filled cracks. But my happiness was short-lived: a stomach infection struck immediately, condemning me to a hellish night in the bivouac with Max.

The next day, my hernia and I hoisted our backpacks onto our shoulders and trudged to El Chaltén for 12 hours.

Despite everything, I'm happy to have fought until the end, supported by extraordinary friends. Now it almost makes me laugh: fate has mocked me, but I patiently wait for karma to turn in my favor. Besides the back pain, I'm returning home with friends with a capital F and a great desire for redemption. Goodbye, Patagonia, next time I'll arrive with my batteries charged.