Every Day is Sunday

I found Jesus!

And if you are ever looking for him –or a stranger to make out with– I suggest you head to Rio de Janeiro.

That’s where Paul and I arrived in late February (apologies for the delay in posting this guest blog!), eager to join the Wertkinborns in commemorating Rio’s annual celebration/spectacle-of-debauchery known as “Carnival.” (Think Mardi Gras on steroids, with even more raucous Catholics.)

O Início (The Beginning)

We arrived to the Sheraton Rio, which we highly recommend. (If you are interested in the Starwood family of hotels, Bonnie Prober can provide additional information). There we joyfully reunited with Erin and Jeff, who greeted us with screams of “Carnival!”  

Language lesson #1: Carnival is one of those magical, multi-meaning words, akin to Aloha or Shalom. Not only does it mean, Happy Carnival!, it also means (depending on tone and facial expression) Hello! Goodbye! Let’s celebrate! Let’s make out! and Let’s celebrate by making out!

First things first…I needed time in the sun. Compared to the Cariocas (Rio natives), I look albino. So, we hit the pool and beach, where I quickly learned that the official fruit of Brazil is not, as the guidebooks claim, the papaya. It’s the Banana. Hammock. 

Holy speedos! In Rio, the boys are toned, tanned, and barely covered. Jeff coaxed me through this culture shock by introducing me to the caipirinha, Rio’s signature drink. It’s a delicious concoction of cachaça (very strong Brazilian liquor), lime, and sugar. Es Bon! 

In Rio, it doesn’t take long to experience sensory overload. It’s not just the cachaça. There’s the constant drumbeat of samba music blaring from somewhere (most often a car’s disproportionately large speaker system). Everywhere you look –aside from the favelas (hillside slums)– there’s stunning beauty. The best part is simply the huge green hills at the edge of Rio’s white beaches, which are peppered with warm, welcoming, thong- and speedo-clad people.

To experience the city’s best view, we headed up to Corcovado, the site where “Christ the Redeemer” is perched.  This 96-foot statute of J.C. is one of the seven wonders of the modern world.  It’s impressive.  But the view from Corcovado, which overlooks the entire city, is even better.

Erin and Jeff had arrived a few days earlier and were already well-assimilated.  They pointed out key sections of the city, told us about the local hot spots they’d discovered, the natives and fellow travelers they’d met, and the great food they sampled.  I told them about the Octo-mom.

After this strong beginning, the highlights of Carnival include….

Takin’ it to the streets…and the beach…and wherever else this pack of drunks are leading us. 

A key hallmark of Carnival is the bloco – or block party. Sometimes it’s a roving pack of revelers. Sometimes the pack is stationary. But the key ingredients are always the same: sweaty mass of people, beer, some sort of parade-style float (yes, a 1980’s hatch-back with a 500-pound speaker system strapped to the top qualifies), and a song. A song that is played over and over and over again. While Americans employ this as a torture tactic, Brazilians love hearing a samba song played, without interruption, hundreds of times in a row.  

We made like the locals and arrived to the bloco at the appointed hour (while nothing else in Rio appears to be particularly regimented, the blocos operate on a timely schedule). People assemble at bloco early to “concentrate.” This means drink. A bloco is not a good place to go if you “hate people” (as one of our companions, the lovely Mariza, disclosed when we found ourselves wedged, in 98-degree heat, between sweaty, barely-clothed, semi-drunk strangers while children sprayed fake snow on us.) The only reasonable thing to do upon arriving to a blanco is get the attention of one of the ubiquitous beer peddlers, chug a cold one, pray that no one in the crowd screams “fire,” and wait for the bloco to begin. Once everybody’s a couple of beers deep and go-time time arrives, the music starts, the “float” moves, and the sweaty mass starts dancing and shuffling along behind it. So, along with the girls (and boys) of Ipanema, we went walking. They took us to the beach — the favorite destination of Cariocas.

On Ipanema beach, many blocos converge.  Our favorite was one we spotted that was sponsored by both the Secretary of Health and the Secretary of Education.  What a worthwhile earmark!

Copacabana, Leblon, and Ipanema (Rio’s three main beaches) are packed with golden bodies, juice stands, and beer carts. You literally have to step over people to make your way toward the ocean. The adorable gays must wake up at dawn to secure the prime beach real estate, as those boys dominate the area closest to the water. The straight boys stick to the back of the beach where, away from the crowds, they can make out with strangers. Or funnel beers, which brings us to…

R.I.P. Corporate Jeff (2005-2009)

Something very strange has happened to our Jeff. Remember tie-wearing, schedule-creating, current events-reading, coffee-chugging, hygienic Jeff? He’s dead. Blame it on the Bossa Nova. Or the heat. But Jeff has given up coffee and news-reading (apparently, staying updated on the state of the U.S. economy is kind of a buzz killer). The nail in the coffin was watching as a group of young, inventive men invited us to drink beer from the well-used funnel they’d fashioned from the bare torso of a female mannequin. Jeff was the only one up for it. That’s right. Not Erin. Jeff.

International Incident! 

Rio isn’t nearly as dangerous as we’d heard. But we did have one robbery attempt. The bad news is that Jeff’s super cool “wallet chain” was broken. The good news is that Jeff thwarted a would-be villain and nothing was stolen. The really good news is that Jeff will no longer be walking around with a long, silver chain linking his wallet to his belt loop.

Bring on the heart attack!

Actually, the most dangerous thing about Rio is the food. Come hungry for meat. That’s what she said. And if you’re really hungry, go to Porcão, a great restaurant we tried that serves every kind of meat (and other organs) you can imagine. 

Everybody Samba! (Seriously, everybody.)  

The highlight of Carnival was going to the Sambadrome, where the city’s top Samba schools compete in an all-night, parade-style dance off. There are thousands of dancers, which is why the Sambodromo lasts from 10pm until 7am.

As you may have heard, this was a banner year at the Sambadrome. History was made. And we were there to bear witness. Brazilian model Dani Sperle wore a samba outfit that covered just 1.2 inches of her body, breaking the world record for least amount of clothing worn.

http://pollianas.blogspot.com/2009/02/dani-sperle-breaks-carnaval-record.html

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2009/02/23/international/i114128S75.DTL

Many thanks to our “cousin” Bret Rosen and our local hosts Zack and Carolina for getting us amazing seats. Here are some great pictures from the night we attended the Sambadrome.

http://www.sacbee.com/static/weblogs/photos/2009/02/019970.html

Abrigada, Erin & Jeff!

We departed Rio on Ash Wednesday. For lent, Jeff has decided to give up practicing law. Erin decided to give up sitting at a desk all day. Yes, it was completely obnoxious.

The Wertkinborns are doing great. They’ve never looked better or more in love. Though we all miss them dearly, they are compiling great stories and incredible pictures. Let’s just hope another camera isn’t lost.

***

Carnival in Rio de Janeiro is an incredible spectacle.   Imagine 5 million people who all dedicate themselves to dancing the samba and having fun for an entire week.  It doesn’t matter if you are young or old, rich or poor, gringo or local, everyone goes wild during Carnival. 

We were lucky enough to enjoy the most amazing party in the world with an amazing group of friends.  Our friends Brin and Paul flew down from Washington DC, Bret came in from Buenos Aires, and Marisa arrived from Los Angeles.  The six of us took to the streets of Rio de Janeiro and had the time of our lives.

The most famous tourist spot in Rio de Janeiro is the Christ Redeemer Statute.  Shortly after Brin and Paul arrived in Rio we all headed off to visit to our favorite Hebrew.  The awe inspiring statue stretches 120-foot tall . . . Holy Christ that’s one big Jesus!

Looking down on the city from the Christ statute was the only time all week that Rio actually seemed peaceful.

We decided to start the Carnival off with a bang at Rio Scenarium, a club in a trendy neighborhood of Rio called Lapa.  But the night was almost a disaster.  On the way to the club, as we were walking through a busy street party, Jeff felt a strong pull on his wallet.  To prevent pick-pocketers, Jeff wears a chain on his wallet that attaches to his belt loop.  Some guy grabbed the chain and started running in the opposite direction.  Luckily the thief only managed to break the chain and the wallet remained safely in Jeff’s pocket.  Crisis averted!

We were in high spirits after surviving the pick-pocket attempt, but when we arrived at the club we found our evening again imperiled.  There was a HUGE line to get into the club – probably 1,000 people spanning two city blocks.  Jeff and Paul tried unsuccessfully to make generous offers of cash to the bouncers.  Then Brin and Erin went to work.  If you know anything about the fabulous duo, then you know this story has a happy ending.  After only about 20 minutes, they made friends with some locals with connections in the bar and we waltzed right in.

People in Rio know how to have a good time.  The club featured two bands and a DJ playing samba dance hits.  We drank Capirihas and danced all night.  It was nice to see Erin and Brin up to their old tricks. 

During Carnival millions of people take to the streets in informal, around-the-clock street parties called “blocos.”  Most people think that blocos are the soul of Rio’s carnival because they are free and anyone can participate.  They usually consist of a band playing on top of a vehicle, followed by many enthusiastic people dressed in costumes, drag, or just a Speedo.  It’s insanely crowded and hot. Luckily the locals chase after you with their wheeled inventions selling you $1 beers to make the experience a little more tolerable. 

We decided to escape the street for a few minutes and follow the bloco while walking along Copacabana beach.  We ran into a guy with the most interesting contraption — a maniquin beer funnel.  Beer has never tasted so sweet . . . enough said.

If you’ve seen pictures from Rio’s carnival, odds are that you saw pictures from the Sambodromo parade.  This spectacular parade is the highlight of Rio’s Carnival.  Each year, the 12 best samba schools in Rio de Janeiro light up the night when they march in the Sambodromo parade. 

Its almost impossible to get good Sambodromo tickets – its kind of like trying to get lower-bowl tickets for the Super Bowl.  But through a friend of Bret’s, we were able to score six amazing tickets right in the center of the parade route.  

The parade contest is fiercely competitive. For the 3 or 4 blog readers who care about these things, here’s how the Sambodromo works.  The top 12 “Samba Schools” march on Carnival Sunday and Monday, six per night.  The school (or club) selects a theme and a song for their performance.  Each of the 12 schools typically features about 5,000 performers, and spends the entire year designing, rehearsing and refining for their 80 minutes in the spotlight.  Some samba schools reportedly budget around $1 million USD for Carnival preparations.  The winning school usually has the most intricate float, and the most elaborate and wild costumes (complete with sparkling sequins and colorful feathers).

And, of course, it wouldn’t be Carnival without a gratuitous photo our what our UK friends call the world’s greatest bums. 

We were lucky enough to see the winning school.  After almost 7 hours of non-stop samba dancing, we called it quits and arrived back at the hotel just in time to see the sun come up.

There is no direct corollary in English for the word “favela,” but the closest approximation is “shantytown” or maybe “urban poor neighborhood.”  Favelas started to crop up about 100 years ago when thousands of freed black slaves and rural Brazilians came to Rio in search of work.  There was no low-income housing available, and so they went into the hills and squatted on public lands.  The government didn’t do anything about it, and soon the squatters began constructing semi-permanent and permanent housing structures.  Currently, 1.5 million people live in these illegal settlements in Rio.

We wanted to see what the Favellas were like, but we were advised not to go on our own.  So we signed on with a tour company to take a “Favela tour.”  At first we were uncomfortable with the idea of taking a tour of a poor neighborhood and taking pictures as if we were at a zoo.  But we found the tour both educational, edifying, and a great way to see an important part of the city that the government and the local tourist board doesn’t want people to see.  We learned a lot about the people of Rio and felt safe and secure the entire time. 

According to our guide, nearly 20% of the population in Rio live in favelas.  Yet, the government makes no effort to regulate these areas.  Most maps of Rio don’t list the different favelas.  There are no official roads, no government schools, and the people in the favelas do not pay taxes.

People who live in favelas typically rely on a home-made water supply and sewer system, and they steal electricity from the power lines with a gato (a ‘cat’ hook that’s thrown onto the electric supply to siphon power).  I asked our guide why the government continues to provide free electricity to the favelas.  “The government has no choice,” she explained. “If they shut the electricity completely it would cause a riot in the city.”

The poor in Brazil don’t take their fate lying down.  Instead they scratch out whatever kind of life they can for themselves.  With little opportunities in education or work, most of the people in the favelas sell items on the street, drive cabs, clean houses, work in construction, deal drugs, or go into prostitution.    

The favelas are controlled by local gangs involved in the local drug trade.  There are three major gangs in Rio that compete for control of the favelas: the Friends of Friends (Amigos dos Amigos, or ADA), Red Command (Commando Velho CV) and the Third Command (Terceiro Comando).  According to our guide, the drug lords keep tight control of the favelas.  Apparently the gangs disdain crime and violence among the people in a favela because it brings the attention of the police, and so there is very little crime between inhabitants of the favelas.  The drug lords mediate disputes that may arise between inhabitants.  It sounded like the stories we used to hear about the Mafia in certain neighborhoods of New York City.  

Graffeti showing this area controlled by A.D.A

We first visited the Rocinha favela, which is one of the most developed favelas in Brazil.  It has a bank, a Bob’s Burgers (like McDonald’s), a newspaper, and its own TV station.  We also visited a smaller favela called Vila Canoas.

There is a huge disparity between the rich and poor in Rio, and we were glad that we got to see how both sides live. 

We came to Rio to experience Carnival, but Carnival is not the only thing to experience in Rio.  To see all sides of this fascinating city we arrived a few days before Carnival and stayed in the bohemian neighborhood of Santa Theresa. 

On our first night we wandered around Santa Theresa looking for a place to eat.  Typically, we’ll get restaurant recommendations from our guide books, hostels, or fellow back-backers.  In Rio, we found a guy in a red apron and chef’s hat.

Our friend was standing in the middle of a dark street in Santa Theresa.  We were a little skeptical because of his outfit, but he was friendly and spoke a little English and so we took his recommendation to try the pizza at a nearby restaurant.  The restaurant had a nice view of the city and a cool artsy feel to it, and so we took a table outside and listened to local musicians who were playing for tips. 

After only one night we could tell that Rio has a different type of energy than other places we visited in South America.  It is raw and artistic. . . we loved it.

The next day we again we ran into our friend with the red apron and red hat.  We thanked him for his restaurant recommendation from the previous night, and asked him if he any other ideas for tonight.  He told us about a Masquerade party at a club downtown.  We annointed him our Rio sherpa and dutifully followed his advice.  

We took the tram down to the Masquerade party. The Santa Theresa tram, or “bondinho,” isn’t the most practical way to travel around Rio, but it’s certainly the most fun.  The tram slowed enough for us to jump on, and we made our way down the winding roads of Santa Theresa toward the City. 

The tram system in Rio is more than 100 years old, and we felt like we were in back in the 1920s as we rode the tram across the old aqueduct system high above the city.  The operators had to stop a few times because the tram kept disconnecting from the electric lines, but it was well worth the 35 cent fare.

Our sherpa nailed it again – the Masquerade party was fantastic.  We bought masks and got our first taste of the Carnival as we danced the night away.   

We ran into our sherpa one more time and, after we thanked him profusely for telling us about the masquerade party, he gave us a list of street parties to attend during Carnival. 

As we were walking away we started to wonder whether our sherpa was real or imaginary?  Was he a figment of our sun-soaked imagination?  Would anyone would believe that our sherpa in Rio was a guy who walks the streets of Santa Theresa wearing a red hat and apron?

Visiting the Iguazu Falls is a visual experience, so we’ll let the pictures do the talking.  The National Park is made up of over 275 waterfalls, although sometimes the tourists made the most interesting subjects.

View from the Brazilian Side

They call this drop "Devil's Throat"

View from the Argentina Side

Even more spectacular than the Falls is the size of this tail… in which country is this stilll acceptable?

Apparently all you need to bring to Igauzu is your camera, boxers and man bag…is this guy for real?

From afar, the rush of a waterfall it is beautiful and even soothing.  But up close, it is a powerful reminder that nature is a lot stronger than you are.  Like when you take a boat to the bottom of the waterfall and the water slams you back into your seat like a rag doll. 

The transmission in our rental car was sticking, the air conditioning didn’t work very well, and the radio was broken.  The conditions were not ideal for our six hour drive into the middle of Uruguay.

Our friends Ehren and Jenny had visited an Estancia (Ranch) in Argentina last year and they highly recommended the experience.  A few weeks after they got back, the Washington Post Travel section ran a spread on Estancias in Uruguay.  We were convinced.  Erin saved the article and we made a reservation in what the Post called one of the best “off-the-beaten-path” Estancias in Uruguay: San Pedro de Timote.

It turned out that the Estancia is full of Uruguayans on the weekends, but doesn’t do much business during the week.  On the weekends they typically have 70-80 guests.  When we arrived on Monday night there was only one other couple staying at the Estancia.  So we had the entire place to ourselves – it was perfect.

With so few guests, the staff let their guard down and just hung out with us.  We sat around and drank Mate (see Entry 4 for description of Mate) with the General Manager and his family.  Things were so quiet, even the cows wandered down from the pasture to take advantage of the pool.

It was an amazing coincidence that the only other people at the Estancia were a couple from the UK who were five months into their trip around the world.  Pete and Alina’s spontaneity is truly inspiring.  They both worked in London at prominent banks.  One weekend they decided to escape the city and went out to the country for a little rest and relaxation.  On Saturday they decided that they wanted to quit their jobs and travel.  On Monday they submitted their resignation letters.  TWO DAYS LATER!!!!   They were on the road in less than a month. 

They are super fun and we were inseparable for three days.  We went horseback riding, ate massive lunches and dinners, and lounged around the courtyard.  Pete and Jeff engaged in a pretty epic ping-pong battle that ended 2 games to 2 (a tie for the good of the friendship).

One evening the four of us made plans to go fishing, but the staff said they didn’t want to lead the trip because there was a storm coming.  The skies looked fine at the time and so we decided to head out on our own.  Besides, it hadn’t rained in that part of Uruguay for more than 2 months.  We got directions to the local fishing hole, grabbed our rain gear and poles, and we piled into the rental car. 

It started raining a little on our way there, and then a lot when we got out of the car.  By the time we put our poles in the water it was pouring. 

Jeff distributed the beers he had brought.  They quickly filled up with water.    

Unfortunately we couldn’t take any photos because it was raining too hard to risk taking out the camera.  But you can imagine how silly we looked standing on the bank of a small river, leaning over the edge with bamboo poles (no reels), using steak as bait, with rain coming down so hard that we couldn’t hear each other talk.

Thankfully, Alina caught a fish quickly and so we could abandon the expedition but still hold our heads up high.  We snapped a quick photo when we arrived back at the Estancia.

Each day we went horseback riding with an old gaucho named Beto.  On the second day Beto let us take the horses galloping, which was both exhilarating and scary.  If you can find the rhythm and follow the movement of the horse, then it feels like you’re flying.  But when the horse really gets going and you’re out of sync, you feel like you could get really hurt.  We experienced a bit of both.

Beto the Gaucho

But the best part of the Estancia was the puppies.  If it were up to Erin, this entire entry would be dedicated to the puppies.  Forget the horsebackriding, the amazing food, the incredible sunsets – all Erin could talk about were the puppies.  There were 16 in all from two separate litters.   

We gave Pete and Alina a lift back to Colonia, an old colonial town in Uruguay, where we spent one night (and saw a beautiful sunset) before heading up to the Falls Iguazu.

MORE URUGUAY PHOTOS

 After being tourists for nearly five weeks we finally had a chance to live like locals for a week.  Jeff’s friend Bret Rosen lives and works in Buenos Aires, and he graciously allowed us to stay at his five-star apartment for an entire week.  Bret speaks fluent Spanish and has assimilated perfectly into Argentinian culture.  Under his guidance we did as the locals do: we walked around the neighborhood, rode bicycles in the park in Palermo, checked out the futbol scene, enjoyed the nightlife, and (best of all) sampled the local cuisine.

As tourists, there’s no chance we’d choose to eat at a restaurant without menus (or prices for that matter).  But as locals, with Bret as our guide, we had three of the most amazing meals of our trip.

Perhaps the best meal of the three was our Saturday lunch at “Don Carlos” in La Boca neighborhood.  Carlitos, the owner of the restaurant, welcomed us and served us most of the food we ate that day.  At one point he walked over with a ¼ chicken on a big fork and dropped it on Erin’s plate without a word.  Erin was a little stunned – but then she proceeded to slice it up and dole it out to the three of us.  It was delicious.

We had pate, caprese salad, fried zucchini, two types of pasta, chicken, steak, a bottle of wine and dessert.  At the end of the meal, Carlitos brought us this bill: 

We took his word for it.

After the meal, we told Carlitos that we were off to visit the La Boca stadium (the most famous local soccer club in B.A. where Diego Maradona played) which was directly across the street.  He walked out the door and told us to follow him.  Carlitos had a word with his friend who runs the stadium, and he arranged for us to have a free tour of the museum and the field. 

Not that this is news, but the Argentinians are CRAZY about their futbol.  Bret informed us that if Diego Maradona (the Argentinian futbol star who played for La Boca) ran for president right now he’d probably win.

While in B.A. we also met up with Ben Stetler, an old friend from Washington DC.  Ben also helped us live like locals — taking us to great restaurants and checking out the B.A. nightlife.  He’s is an amazing story-teller and tons of fun.  Whether in Washington DC or Buenos Aires, Erin and Ben are like two peas in a pod. . . . 

Since we were living as locals, surely it would be inappropriate for us to post all the standard tourist pictures from B.A.  Of course we have the standard shots of the Pink House (where Evita addressed the workers in the square) and a Tango show at El Viejo Almacen.

But we decided to try to capture a little more of the local flavors of B.A.

We never felt more like locals than on Friday afternoon as we were walking down Avenue 9 de Julio and we saw this view. 

Apparently Washington DC isn’t the only city with cherry blossoms and a big phallic monument in the middle of the city.   

MORE BUENOS AIRES PICTURES

We have no plans to ever run a marathon.  But on the final day of our four-day, 43-mile hike, we think we discovered what finishing a marathon must feel like.  It is an exquisite mix of pride, relief, exhaustion, and pain.

If you like hiking — and want the adventure of a lifetime — we highly recommend visiting Patagonia and hiking the “W” circuit in the Torres del Paine National Park. 

 The Torres Del Paine (pronounced Pine-A) is an extraordinary place.  One reason we loved the park is that it felt like we had the whole place to ourselves.  Only 128,000 people visit the Park each year (compare that to 5 million who visit the Grand Canyon each year).  Even in the busiest time of year you can hike for hours without seeing another person. 

That's Erin in the bottom right-hand corner

And the area is so pristine that you can drink the water directly from the streams and waterfalls created by the melting glaciers.We also loved the ruggedness of the W Circuit.  Even though there was a trail, you often had to make your own path.  The park service marked the trail with orange circles on trees and rocks, but at some points there was no obvious way to reach the next marking.  We deliberated over the best way to cross streams and had to test the security of the boulders as we climbed straight up toward a waterfall.

Can you find the path to the orange marker in this picture?

Perhaps the best part about the park was the incredibly different and equally stunning scenery we saw each day.  We hiked past glaciers, forests, lakes, valleys, meadows, beaches, and waterfalls.  It was difficult to keep up our pace when we wanted to stop every 15 minutes to take photos.

An unexpected bonus was hanging out with all the other hikers in the Refugios.  There was an palpable sense of camaraderie that developed at the end of each day on the trail.  Most of the people were hiking the same Circuit and through this difficult common experience we formed fast friendships.  At night we pooled our money, bought a box of wine from the Refugio, and sat around sipping wine and swapping stories from the trail and from our lives.

On the first night we met Maikael and Liz – two Americans from New Mexico who also left their jobs to travel the world.  Maikael and Liz told us about their search for the most happy places on Earth.  For example, they decided to visit Bhutan after reading that the people there are among the happiest in the world.  In 1972, Bhutan’s newly crowned leader decided to make his nation’s priority not its G.D.P. but its G.N.H., or gross national happiness.  Although the program is still a work in progress, the percentage of people in Bhutan who report that they are happy is staggering.  We liked Maikael and Liz’s idea about searching out happy places, and we might have to find a way to add Bhutan to our itinerary.  Their blog www.kindnessofstrangerstravel.com is a cool chronical of their adventures. 

On the third night we met Derek and Carrie.  They were a fascinating couple (he flies F-18s for the Marine Corps based out of San Diego, she is an English Professor at Boston University).  We talked politics, the military, war and what its like to live 3000 miles away from your spouse (he said its like having a honeymoon every other weekend!).  We appreciated the fact that they were different people who totally complented one another.     

Here’s a quick synopsis of our days on the W: 

We arrived on Day 1 and hiked 6.8 miles north to the base of the Grey Glacier (the western side of the W).  As we got closer to the glacier, we saw more and more mini-icebergs than had broken off from the huge glacier.  Although six miles isn’t that much for one day, it was very difficult hike because the wind was fierce and blowing straight into our faces.

We awoke early on Day 2 and hiked another 2.5 miles north in order to get the best view of the Grey Glacier.  We found an inlet where ice that had calved off the glacier had collected and took some cool photos.  We then re-traced our steps and trekked 9.3 miles south down the western side of the “W” Circuit.

The Earth's Future Melting in Jeff's Hands

Day 3 was our longest and most difficult day.  Unfortunately it rained most of the day.  We hiked 4.7 miles east to the base of the Valle Del Frances, 3.7 miles rountrip to visit the Mirador Valle Frances (the middle of the “W”), and then 3.4 miles east to Los Cuernos.  Although the constant rain made it difficult to enjoy some of the sights (you can see it in our faces in the first two photographs), in the end we prevailed and still won the day. 

We had a beautiful day and a beautiful hike on Day 4.  We trekked 6.8 km northeast across the Rio del Arriero and Paso de los Vientos.  We were lucky enough to see some gauchos riding over the stunning meadows. 

Erin set the alarm for 3:45 am on Day 5.  We hit the trail at 4 am and hiked for two hours (about 2.5 miles) in the dark so that we could reach the famous Torres del Paine rock formation for the sunrise.  The last half mile was straight uphill over boulders – Erin took the lead and kicked it into high gear as Jeff tried to keep up.  We made it with 15 minutes to spare and watched the sun come up over the horizon. 

Then it was 6 miles out of the park to catch the noon bus out of the park.

It was an amazing four days.  All in all we hiked about 43 miles with all of our gear on our backs.   It was demanding on our bodies (we left out a picture of Erin’s foot covered with blisters), but that made our last few steps even more sweet.  We left the park with big smiles on our faces.  Bring on the next mountain! 

MORE TORRES DEL PAINE PICTURES