Day 2: Laguna Toro - Campemiento Paso del Viento, 13 km
Early in the morning I hear the wind raging around my tent. That doesn't bode well. I leave early to avoid the expected line at the tyrolean traverse, but I needn't have worried about that. Except for two hikers ahead of me, I am alone. I walk upstream along the river until it becomes a lake, braving the wind as I go. In the Netherlands, this storm would have made the news with fallen trees and blown roofs. Here I can only brace myself with my trekking poles and try to stay upright until the worst gust of wind has passed. I follow the path up to the rocks and there, at a small waterfall, I lose it. I do see cairns on the bottom of the rocks, but they are for people who want to wade through the river, which the ranger has advised against with these water levels. I decide to wait for the next hikers, the three American climbers, and join them. Without hesitation they pick their way up along the waterfall and across the rocks, passing sparse cairns. The wind is less here fortunately and that makes a huge difference. Finally we come to a narrow gorge full of swirling, gray water, across which an iron cable is stretched. A friendly man helps me untangle my climbing harness and one of the Americans has been waiting for me and helps me hook up correctly. Aluminum carabiner on the pulley, iron one directly on the cable. Although they carried their backpack themselves, I hang it neatly from the iron carabiner, my trekking poles and tent poles in the side pockets, but attached to the backpack itself with small clips. And almost before I know it, I'm hanging in the harness and pulling myself along the cable, to the loud encouragement of the Americans, Anne, Susan and Briand. You can say a lot about Americans, but it feels really good to have cheerleaders like that. The beginning is pretty easy, but then it goes up and it gets harder. I was able to grab hand over hand at first, eventually I need both hands to move forward a bit. When I can hardly bear it anymore, my feet find a foothold on the rocks. The last bit is much easier. Unhoooking yourself also goes by a whole protocol, which Briand, who crossed before, happily helps me with. Only when I am completely stable I release the carabiner and pack the harness again. I watch for a moment how two other hikers cross and then continue the path. In the wrong direction. I only notice when the lake becomes visible again, gusts of water still blowing towards the mountains. This is the path for people who have forded the river. Oops! I am now hiking with three men, including the German Julio, and we hike back together.After some searching we find the right path and two hikers soon disappear from sight. The route climbs steadily, but not very steeply. Soon the first glacier that feeds the river appears, glaciar Rio Tunel inferior, the lower Rio Tunel glacier. The trail crosses the moraine high above, mounds of gray gravel with the path just a touch lighter than the rest. I see a number of people walking on the glacier, but because of the huge crevasses I'm not keen on that. I follow a trail, but eventually descend to the glacier. Clear water flows at the edge and I drink a few sips of deliciously cool water. Looking at it up close, the glacier feels quite safe to walk on and it's definitely a lot easier than the moraine. There are stones and grit on the ice and crampons are not necessary. I no longer encounter large crevices, but beautiful shapes and a very deep waterfall, the bottom of which I cannot see. I thought the ice here would be thin, with a solid bedrock just below it, but it looks like the glacier is tens of meters thick, if not more, even at the edge. Eventually I have to leave the glacier again and by the tracks on the moraine I can see where other hikers have done so. Julio hikes in front of me like a living beacon and I focus on his position. But getting back on the moraine is not that easy. To my great surprise, the moraine consists of solid ice with a thin layer of grit and when I want to go up, I keep slipping. Just a little higher I see larger stones that should offer more grip and I look for a way to get there.Crawling, that's for sure, walking is out of the question. In the end I manage on my hands and knees and even then with great difficulty and several bruises here and there. Once stable I reach for Julio with my trekking pole and pull him up to solid ground. From there the path becomes easier, a gray ribbon over the tops of the moraine. We leave the first glacier and hike to the second, glaciar Rio Tunel superior, the upper Rio Tunel glacier. The river rises at the foot of this glacier, but the glacier itself is just as impressive, with Cerro Azara in the background. At the level of the glacier, I lose the track again at an edge, probably because I look down and not up. After all, we have to get to the pass. Julio grabs his GPS and a bit back we find a second path up. Way, way up. It is not very steep, but hard. I pause at a rock to catch my breath. Julio and a group of other hikers keep going. There is a high path and a lower path and everyone chooses the lower. Not long after that I follow them, but where the two paths come close together again, I climb up across a stone slope to the easier-looking higher path. That goes quite easily to the 1,410 meter high Paso del Viento and from here I can see the pass. That gives me the energy I need and I persevere to conquer the last meters. After a short break I descend slightly along two lakes to a viewpoint. And what a view!A sea, an ocean of ice, stretching to the horizon. The Southern Patagonian Ice Field. Distant mountains protrude like islands in the ice mass. There are odd cloud layers, flat as a saucer. Together with a group of hikers I rest for a while, enjoying the view. Sheltered by the rocks, in the warmth of the sun it is cozy and you keep looking about. How many people will ever see this? What a privilege to be here. A bird of prey comes to see if there is anything to eat, no doubt fed by previous hikers, because it is not shy at all. After a while more people cross the pass, tiny specks next to the huge brown mountain. When they reach the viewpoint, we move on. The route goes down, the descent is not difficult, but the path is loose grit and I lean heavily on my trekking poles. Almost everyone is faster than me, but they are also all at least twenty years younger. I am careful, my left knee is still sensitive after the fall in Portugal. Once at the bottom of the slope we walk on flat ground between two slag heaps. The route climbs a bit higher again, but lower down I see a friendly path along a stream and after some searching I find the path down. While the other hikers follow the high path, I leisurely walk along the stream to the small lagoon that we already saw from the viewpoint. Quite a few tents have already been set up behind stone windbreaks, but I still find a spot for mine. Here too an iron cooking hut and nothing else, but that is enough. Hikers trickle in until quite late. Many did not dare to make the trip this morning with that wind and waited until it got a little better. I stick my mangled feet into the stream and sigh in relief. I survived day two. Now tomorrow. The infamous descent.

Day 3: Campemiento Paso del Viento - Lago Viedma, 15 km
It is already light when I wake up and I crawl out of my tent. After visiting the bushes used as a toilet, I pack my things and hit the trail. It is almost windless, a rarity in Patagonia. The day starts cool, but as soon as the sun comes through it becomes pleasantly warm. I walk around the lagoon and pick up the trail again. The route runs across slag heaps along the huge rubble wall behind which the glacier hides. Would the glacier ever have reached the top of the rubble wall? Has the ice bulldozed all these stones with its immense power? The path starts out stony, but is fairly flat and easy, even becoming grassy and swampy. We wind over hills and cross streams, avoiding the mud puddles. Lizards scurry across the path, small and hardly noticeable. Only their movement catches my attention. I keep an eye out for the Huemul, a rare cervid, but Julio says there are only 1,000 left between Chile and Argentina. When we get higher, we can admire the glacier again. A river of ice with black wave patterns and interesting ice formations. Very gradually the path starts to climb and I start to look out for Paso Huemul. We are now hiking close to the glacier, albeit high above it, and solid rock has taken the place of the loose rubble wall.A large lake has formed on the side of the glacier with huge icebergs in it. The shapes are fascinating and a group of hikers choose this spot for a rest. I hike on for a while, the sun is much too hot for me without wind. Higher we go, now close to the rocks. When I come across a patch of shadow, I take off my backpack for a break. I add a sachet of minerals to my water because I feel my body needs it. It tastes like lemons and I force myself to drink because I have to. After fifteen minutes I continue with new energy. The path continues to climb slowly along the mountain until it ceases to be gentle and heads up in a jerk with short zigzags. This way I quickly gain height, luckily after that, the trail continues at a slightly more relaxed pace to Paso Huemul. As often in the mountains, the pass I see first is not yet the top, I have to go up a bit further to a pass to the left of the mountain. There I meet Julio and I join him. I need to rest more often and distribute my energy better and he leads by example. We have a beautiful view of Lago Viedma, the huge lake that stretches beyond the horizon. The clouds cast shadows on the water, creating a mosaic of milky blue and dark green. This must be the same lake we saw on the first day. The beginning of the end. But first there is that infamous descent. All the way to the shore of the lake, 770 meters below. According to various blogs, hikers found this the most difficult part of the route. It starts out fairly tame, winding down to a ridge and then lower still through green bushes. Trees grow flat across the path and I struggle across the trunks. To my surprise we climb another section and I wonder where the 'OMG' section begins. And then we are at the beginning of the descent. Very steep, loose sand. As a slide it would be frowned upon. With trekking poles it's still ok, but I crawl forward. Careful, careful. Slowly I get lower and lower. Sliding, puzzling, carefully placing my feet. Now I am happy with the few rocks in the path, they form anchor points on which I am certain to have a foothold. I sweat, the suntan lotion stings my eyes, and I use the sleeve of my T-shirt to wipe them. A rope hangs from a piece of rock, but you can also do without it. The rope comes in handy at another rock. And on a third I slide down on my ass. Later I spot a hole in my favorite hiking pants. Oops! I have slipped slightly beyond the path and apparently I am not the only one, because there is another path up through the bushes. It is not complicated, but very hard. This is also not the most enjoyable section of the trail, but it is part of it. Grit your teeth and bear it. Then the end of the descent comes into view. The path becomes milder, a normal descent as you often find in the mountains. I hear a stream, suddenly I'm very thirsty and follow a side path to the water. In the middle of the stream there is a rock in the water on which I plop down when I drink some more minerals before I toss the last yellow water into the bushes. Wonderfully clear and cool mountain water. That feels good.Two other hikers also stop, but I don't have the energy to get up from my rock. I take their bottles and fill them for the hikers. From here it is another 900 meters and 160 meters down to the first campsite, but that is not too bad. I come across a stream that flows across the path. It doesn't seem deep, but my shoe sinks deep into the mud. Well, that's what you get when you're of the 'act first, think later' type. A little later there is the junction to the campsite, along a bit of forest where a fire has recently raged. Black skeletons of tree trunks stand out against the blue sky like an indictment. Is it a coincidence that a fire just raged near a campsite? Although campsite is a big word, I'll see a little later. They are nothing more than bivouacs in the woods, with stone walls against the wind. There is no latrine, no cooking hut. We can get water from the lake. I put up my tent and wash my clothes. Icebergs with graceful shapes float in the lake. The rocky beach is right on the wind and that is too fresh for me, although some don't care and even venture into the water. Out of the wind, in my tent and in the sun it is wonderful and I lazily stretch out on my mat. Slowly the campsite fills up, but it doesn't get crowded. Many walkers have continued to the second campsite on the other side of the peninsula.

Day 4: Lago Viedma - El Chalten, 25 km
It is Wednesday, the day the weather was supposed to turn, but the morning starts nice and sunny and the wind is warm. The bay is free of icebergs, only a few small pieces of clear ice are smashing against the rocky beach by the wave action. I leave quite late. I climb back up to the route past the stretch of burnt forest and hike back a bit to fill my water bottle. The water of the lake was not super clean and there was a stream behind the campsite, but it flowed right past the open-air toilet. Old toilet paper was sometimes very close to the water and certainly not the 60 steps that you should take as a minimum according to hiking etiquette. Safely upstream above the campsite I fill my bottle with clear water and drink almost half a liter just to be sure. Then I start the last leg. The route is fairly flat and runs along the back of the peninsula to the water. There is an elongated lake and in the distance I see cows. Then the lake becomes a river and it becomes clear that we have to cross it. And I just taped my feet... Well, nothing to be done about it. I pull my sandals out of my backpack and grab my trekking poles, which come in handy on the slippery, muddy river bed.The river is not wide, but the water flows fast and is surprisingly deep. It’s just below my shorts and another hiker with leggings takes them off completely. Soon enough I'm on the other bank and put on my hiking boots again. The trail continues, meandering between low, bulbous bushes and I notice the difference now that I'm wearing shorts and the branches scrape against my bare legs. After a small piece of stone beach, the trail goes into the hills. This time no steep climbs, but very gradual uphill. There is no water on this stretch, but I wouldn't trust a stream anyway given the countless cow pies. Slowly I crawl higher and higher. On the left I have a great view of the mountains and I am still amazed that we walked around them in four days. I come to a stream that squeezes down from a great height between rocks in a narrow gully. No cow can get to it and a little above the ford I drink some sips. Then I see the mouth of Rio Tunel in the distance. I see some gravel banks and wonder if it would be possible to ford the river, although it is not recommended. But if I can see the river so clearly from this distance, it must be quite impressive up close.For four kilometers the route winds along the hills, descending almost imperceptibly. The last part runs along a meadow, the posts of the fence occasionally with a yellow head to indicate the route. The gate leads me to the river where the second tyrolean traverse awaits. Upright sleepers form a staircase to the iron cable, which spans the wide river tautly. The river flows with a tremendous force and pulls the rope that allows you to bring the pulley back to this bank. Don't think about wading through it, that would be extremely dangerous. I take off my backpack and this time manage to untangle my harness and put it on correctly. Shortly after me two Germans arrive who have brought an extra line., so they can pull the pulley to either side and transfer their backpacks separately. Mine also goes to the other side like this. Very nice, because after that I will go myself, without luggage it goes quickly and a lot easier than the 1st time. I am very happy with fingerless gloves that allow me to grip the cable well and pull me quickly to the other side. There I prepare some trail mix and fill my water bottle with milky gray glacier water for the last time. The route continues along a lovely footpath and then comes out on a semi-paved cart track from a farm to Bahia Tunel, a jetty where the occasional tourist ferry docks.
The GPS isn't quite clear and I climb over the fence to continue on the road, only to climb back into the meadow at the next bend, where the path and yellow-headed posts continue. At one of the two gates I lose my water bottle, which just barely fit in the side pocket of my backpack. Oops! Fortunately it is only six kilometers and I always drink too little. I can manage. The sky is cloudy, it is less warm and the wind has picked up. The expected weather turn is coming. Again there are rolling hills. The weather changes noticeably. The wind is blowing hard, I have to struggle to stay upright and sometimes just brace myself to wait out the gust of wind. Then it starts to drizzle. I hike in T-shirt and shorts still and see no reason to bundle up, as long as it no worse than the occasional drop. But I am aware of the danger of hypothermia and keep a close eye on myself. The wind gusts harder. The landscape is open and there is no shelter from the elements. We pass the hacienda and I hike briskly. Finally at the last bush for a good while I take shelter and take my jacket and rain pants from my backpack. Two Germans come to ask if everything is all right and even want to take over some luggage from me. I only accept a few sips of water and assure them that everything else is fine. Not very far away I see cars driving on the road to El Chaltén. According to the map there is a path through the grass somewhere, but now that it is raining so hard, I can hardly see anything with or without glasses and I am happy to hike the last part back to the village on the road. Back at the hostel I enjoy a nice hot shower. I made it, the trek I was so nervous about beforehand. In retrospect I can say that I worried a little too much to enjoy the trek unimpeded, but when I look back at the photos later, I will certainly do so with pleasure. I have seen and experienced great things again, what an adventure. I am proud of myself.

Watch my YouTube videos of this hike here.