Grafton the Sun King and El Sendero del Bastardo

We arrived in Bariloche, ARG over a week ago to cold and clouds, but the following day Mike Grafton arrived bringing sunshine and warmth that remains despite his departure yesterday. Before heading into the mountains we spent a day in this rather touristy town gathering supplies and enjoying a fine pasta dinner with a Montevidean named Fabian and his Argentinian girlfriend Laura. Between their impressive English and our less impressive Spanish we entertained each other well.



We are mighty lucky that Mike brought the sun because he also brought us on our most demanding and most rewarding trek so far. It might have been impossible in foul weather. Instead we had sun with just enough clouds to give the skies their usual Patagonian grandeur.

We named our trail el Sendero del Bastardo for several reasons. First the trail had only two modes, straight up or straight down. Apparently the designer had an animosity to switchbacks or pleasant jaunts through valleys. Most of our time was spent ascending with our knees closer to our chests than we generally care for or sunk halfway to our knees in scree and eroded earth in descent. Not to imply that El Bastardo didn´t have a whimsical side. For example, his design included such practical jokes as a giant arrow made of stones that led to a nonsensical traverse under a huge rock wall with periods of nearly impenetrable lenga scrub. His coup de grace was letting the trail vanish altogether, leaving us to our own devices on a vertigo-inducing slope of rock and scree that we later dubbed Grafton´s Folly.

The payoff was huge, however. El Bastardo Viejo may have had little concern for the comfort of the trekker, but definitely knew were to go for jaw dropping views and exquisitely beautiful lakes. He also provided us with wonderful campsites: along a crystal clear river in forest and bamboo, in a lovely mallín surrounded by impressive peaks, in a rock strewn valley on a lake, and on another lake across from which loomed Monte Tronador (The Thunderer), a giant volcano whose thunder emanated from periodic collapse of its hanging glaciers rather than from eruptions.

It was a spectacular adventure. Hilary again performed as if she has been backpacking all her life and as always it was wonderful to be in the backcountry with Mike. He is always well-prepared, calm, thoughtful, and entertaining, making him an ideal backpacking companion.

At the end of our hike we spent a last day together lying next to a river under El Tronador reading, talking, and playing with our new dog friend, Papas Fritas. Hilary said, "How sad, we have to leave this place. We are always leaving places." Mike said, "Well, thats the nature of travelling isn´t it? Always coming and going." They are right of course, and thinking about it I would add that it is full of hellos and goodbyes. As much as I love this life, the constant movement holds a taste of melancholy because it is impossible to ignore the constant change, the frequent beginnings and endings. But I suppose this is true whether one is moving or not and we can't let ourselves become terrified of the temporary because it is universal and unopposable.

OK. Enough nickel philosophy. On to the pictures. Goodbye Mike. We miss you. Thank you for being here with us.










































Update: Moments after I posted this Hilary pointed outside and said, "It´s raining. Hard." And so it is. The Sun King has left the building.