GPT38 | Glaciar Chico / Campo de Hielo Sur
Candelario Mansilla
18 March 2024
It’s time to head towards Chile again, as the good weather window for the glacier tour is finally approaching. Leo, our guide, wants us to be in Candelario Mansilla by March 18th. It’s a small settlement with just a few houses belonging to the same family and several carabineros working at the border checkpoint.
To get there, we take a tourist bus to Lago Desierto (for which we have to buy a return ticket, as one-way is not possible). Unsure when we’ll have electricity again, we stop at a restaurant by the lake for a coffee and to fully charge our phones (in addition to our already charged power banks).
The walk along the lake is not as scenic as we expected. It’s a bit boring but also protects us from the slight rain and snow. The sky is cloudy and gray, with only a few leaves starting to turn yellow and red.
At 8 p.m., we finally reach the Argentinian border checkpoint, which has a campground tucked away in the trees. We head over to the building, hoping to complete our paperwork, but a friendly border official tells us we’re 15 minutes late and all the systems are shut down already (we learn the next day that it’s just a paper book). Oh well. We pitch our tents and fall asleep after our late dinners.
At exactly 9 a.m., we knock on the door of the Gendarmeria. The paperwork is done quickly, and we head on towards Chile. The actual border is just 5 km away, with the Chilean border checkpoint another 15 km beyond that.
It starts raining on the way down to Candelario. Suddenly, we see a tractor, some bikes, and people pushing a trailer. Someone has given a family of bike packers a ride. We immediately sense that this is our ride to Candelario! I ask the man in the poncho if he can take us. The trailer’s axle is broken, he replies, but we can sit on either side of the tractor if we want. No problem for us!
The trail provides! It’s a very bumpy ride for approximately 12 km, and our butts will hurt the next day, but we are extremely happy about this unexpected taxi ride that saves us from a long, boring walk on a gravel road.
Embarking to Glaciar Chico and Refugio Pantoja
20 March 2024
“Cast off!” We finally embark on our journey. Our guide’s boat, Tempano, named after the Spanish word for “iceberg,” is ready. We put on our life vests and load our gear—ice axes, crampons, snowshoes, and backpacks—into the boat. We then start speeding across Lago O’Higgins. The wind picks up as we approach the glacier, and big chunks of ice float in the water. Fascinating!
After only 30 minutes, we reach the base of Glacier Chico. We drag Tempano out of the water, secure it properly, and begin our trek on the glacier.
The first refuge is only 8 km away. "Not much," thinks the thru-hiker. But it soon dawns on us that walking on a glacier is a completely different game. Navigating the massive crevasses is key—it feels more like traversing a giant labyrinth than following a trail. 🤪
Enjoying the Views at Piedras Rojas
21 March 2024
We reach the next refuge around 1pm. After a small climb up some rocky terrain, it comes into view only as we are almost standing in front of it. It’s another white dome with a metal structure and a thick plastic covering at the bottom.
The scenery is breathtaking with awesome views over the glacier. Time for a quick break and a round of mate.
It feels way too early to stop, but the next refuge is another 8 kilometers away, which in this terrain means another 5 to 6 hours of walking with either crampons or snowshoes, according to our guides. It’s slightly uphill from here. Lilian would like to continue, but I am not so sure. I could do it, but would it be fun and allow us to enjoy the scenery? Will it be dark by the time we get to the next refuge? In the end, we decide to stay.
It's a lovely sunny day, and the setting is just perfect for taking some pictures. Lilian ventures a bit higher up the mountain while I lie on a huge red rock. These rocks are scattered all around and give the refuge its name, Piedras Rojas (Red Stones). The stones are warm, heated by the sun. If I close my eyes, it feels like I am lying on a beach.
Navigating the Glacier to Refugio Garcia Soto
22 March 2024 | 2°C
After a hearty breakfast prepared by our guides, we continue our trek through the glacier's labyrinth. The snow has picked up, giving us a chance to test our snowshoes, crunching through the fresh snow. We also practice walking as a rope team, staying connected to avoid any accidents.
Later in the day, as we already start our ascent to the refugio the familiar shapes of Monte Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre come into view. Leo points them out with a grin. Seeing these famous peaks from a new angle is a nice surprise.
From that point, it is just a short but steep climb to Refugio Garcia Soto. It stands out like an island in this vast snowy area, located on the Chilean side just a stone's throw away from the Argentinian border.
The refuge is a practical hut with a simple kitchen, a table, chairs, and a small dorm with bunk beds. It's basic, but it provides the warmth and comfort.
What to do on a bad Weather Day in the Mountains?
23/24 March 2024
Eat, sleep, drink tea, repeat. That’s the mantra on a bad weather day in the mountains. I find an entertaining German book in the little bookshelf where previous visitors have left some reading material. It seems more like a book someone would buy at an airport and take to the beach for "lightweight reading." How the heck did it get up here?
While we knew we would have one waiting day at Garcia Soto, we wake up to rain the next day as well. Walking in regular terrain is unpleasant but doable; it's a different game on an ice field where snow bridges are the only way to safely move forward. Are they still stable enough?
Leo sets a timeframe until 9 o’clock. If it doesn’t stop before then, we have to stay. Though it’s not very far—only 15km—it will be slow navigating around the crevasses, and we will need time to set up our camp before it gets dark. Unfortunately, the weather gods have no mercy today. While I decide to continue reading “my book,” the guys head out to Cerro Gorra Blanca (“White Hat”) just behind our hut as soon as the wind ceases a bit.
Interestingly, the skies clear up in the late afternoon, and Cerro Torre comes out of his white hideaway. The view from here is fascinating, but it would be even more breathtaking at Circo de los Altares ….
It would be great to get tomorrow and have the same views … We already “lost” one day, and our weather window to get there and back is shrinking. Fingers crossed!
Crossing the Crevasses to Circo de Los Altares
26 March 2024 ⁄ 2°C
“Grieta!” I shout and let myself fall into the snow. Both Lilian and Pipe behind me do the same. Leo, our guide leading the way, just sank a bit more than knee-deep into the snow. It’s not a big deal, but a live demonstration of why we’re all roped together, traversing what is essentially a hidden sea of crevasses.
We had already “practiced” walking as a rope team on the way up the glacier, but now it’s the real deal. Although I know the rope is my lifeline, I dislike being tethered, unable to walk at my own pace. Sigh!
We started early in the morning with our snowshoes on. The first 8 of the 15 kilometers from Refugio Garcia Soto to Circo de los Altares passed pretty quickly. But now, it’s getting super slow.
As the second in our rope team, I meticulously follow Leo’s tracks. Suddenly, the ground vanishes beneath my feet, and I’m floating in the air. Everyone in front and behind me drops to the ground. Half of my body is above the surface while the other half dangles in a small crevasse. Unable to find a foothold, Leo pulls me out, and we continue. Phew!
Did I misstep, or did a snow bridge collapse under my weight?
By 6 pm, we finally reach Circo de los Altares. The day before, Charly had described it as a magical place where towering peaks form a grand circle. Unfortunately, luck isn’t on our side today—the peaks are hidden in clouds. Bummer! Still, I can feel the enchantment of this place as we use our ice axes to carve out a flat spot for our expedition tent. Sleeping on ice tonight. Exciting! Will it be cold?
A long way back to the hut
27 March 2024
Despite the wind shaking our tent, it feels cozy inside. I slept well and didn't feel cold at all—one of my biggest fears hasn’t come true. Yeah! Pipe heats water for the morning mate as always, and we all have a quick breakfast before packing up.
“A sufrir,” says one of our guides as we start walking. Uh-oh. It’s cloudy, but no rain... yet? We've got the same 15 kilometers to trek back.
Snowshoes on, I start trotting behind Leo, trying to find a rhythm. It seems we’re on a better path than yesterday; at least it feels like we’re moving faster. There are ponds of water here and there, and I push away the thought of falling into one. Freeze to death immediately?
I start to feel desperate. It’s the same route back, and sometimes it feels like we’re not moving at all. Frustration and tears well up. But angry with what or whom? It is what it is. It’s just walking. It’s mountains and a lot of snow (and quite a few invisible crevasses). I look for stones or landmarks on the mountains to gauge our progress, but everything feels terribly slow. I feel very tired suddenly. Every step is an effort. Is it really my body or just my mind? It feels like the rope is constantly pulling me. Poor Leo, who is walking in front of me, I think. At the same time, I feel something pulling me back as well.
Leo seems to notice and suggests we switch positions. I am now second to last with just Leo behind me. I put on some music to distract and entertain myself.
At some point, I notice that everything gets easier. I have to slightly pick up the rope in front of me to avoid stepping on it. It seems I am walking faster than Lilian. Is it the music, the switch of positions, or the fact that the sun came out?
The refuge is still not in sight, but I can roughly guess where it is. How long will it be—another hour or more? The sun is out, but the wind has picked up as we start ascending. It’s blowing heavily from the side. I am getting cold, but I don’t want to stop and make everyone else stop to put on another layer. I just want to walk to the sound of the music.
And then suddenly, a familiar pole comes into sight. That’s where the refuge is! As soon as we take off our snowshoes, Charly, who stayed in the hut for maintenance work and cleaning, comes running towards us. “Congrats, you made it!” he shouts against the wind, “There’s food and tea inside”. Heaven! What a ride!
Racing Against the Weather Back to Lago O’Higgins
27 March 2024
With windy and rainy weather forecasted for the next couple of days, navigation on Lago O’Higgins will be impossible, so we need to return to our boat at the base of Glacier Chico today. The distance is roughly 24 kilometers, a stretch we had covered leisurely in 2 days on the way up.
It’s a clear morning, and we have an early start at 8 am. Monte Fitz Roy waves goodbye while Cerro Torre prefers to hide in the clouds. With a last, nostalgic glance, I almost feel a bit melancholic.
The scenery on the way down is equally impressive, with the southern Patagonian ice field just a short walk downhill from the refuge. I almost start running with my crampons on, but watching left and right and taking photos simultaneously proves a bad idea. I fall, and while the frozen ground is excellent for walking without sinking, it is rough on my hands, which start bleeding. Never mind; it doesn’t change my good mood.
Everything looks different today, with most of the snow we saw on the way up now melted. I take my crampons off when I feel confident in my hiking boots' grip. Unfortunately, one of my hiking poles breaks when I accidentally place it in a hole. It’s not a problem at this point, but I will miss it dearly later in the day.
We stop at Piedras Rojas for a brief break, but Leo soon encourages us to push on as we still have some distance to cover.
While strolling over the vast flat surface on top of the glacier called “the highway,” I wonder why he is pushing us so hard. Soon I learn why. As soon as the highway ends, the crevasses become huge, and we head to one side where we must climb over big rocks, followed by a section where we lower ourselves down with a rope.
At one point, we can already see Lago O’Higgins, but as always, the last mile feels the longest. It gets pretty steep towards the end, so I put my crampons back on. It’s too easy to slip when your feet are tired. Then, it’s quick: climbing up and down more rocks, and our boat comes into sight. It will get dark soon, and after some quick high fives, we all jump into the boat. So quickly, in fact, that I totally forgot to take a finisher picture!
Rio Condor
29 March 2024
We’re kind of stuck at Leo’s house by Rio Condor for a few days, as the wind is too strong to navigate the boat out of the relatively sheltered arm of Lago O’Higgins towards Candelario. Although it feels a bit like being stuck, it’s a welcome break after a week of trudging across ice and snow with crampons and snowshoes.
The property, accessible only by boat, sits atop a hill overlooking a stretch of the lake, right next to the mighty Rio Condor.
For the next two days, our walking is limited to Leo’s property—moving from the small family home to the outdoor toilet and a bit further to the Jurte, where the four of us (Lilian, Pipe, Charly, and I) are sleeping.
We enjoy delicious meals from the family garden, fresh eggs from the chickens, and goat meat that Leo bought from a settler on the way back from the glacier.
We sleep a lot, and I take the opportunity to repair some gear. My pack has taken a beating from crampons, a sharp ice axe, snowshoes, and sliding down rocks on the way back.
I also lost my gloves somewhere on the way back from the glacier. It’s a bit sad since I had just received them for my birthday. 🥲 “They got you through some reasonably cold and intense days,” says Lilian. True.
Thank you, gloves. I’ll miss you.