The phrase "Tierra de Nadie" translates in English to "No Man's Land." But if you break down the Spanish word-for-word it translates to, "Land of No One." This sentiment rang particularly true for me as I crossed one of the world's most remote border crossings between Chile and Argentina, after completing what has, to date, been the most adventurous part of my trip, the Carretera Austral.
Border Crossing Day 1 - The Boat
As seems to always be the case in Patagonia, nothing happens the way you anticipate. First, this border crossing was closed, but I decided to make my way toward it anyway. Information here always changes the closer you get, just like the weather. Then the border opened, but I had to wait five days for the wind to calm enough for the boat to cross. Then five days turned to four, with only a four hour warning that the boat had to leave that afternoon instead of the following morning due to, whate else, the weather. Everything became a scramble. But with no other choice, I broke down camp, ran to the stream to fill my water bottles, put up a rushed post so everyone would know I'd be out of service for awhile, bought an extra pouch of tobacco, and made my way to the boat office. There was a van waiting to take a small group of us to the boat, about 7 km down the road.
There was brief entertainment provided on the van ride, Patagonian style. We chased a fox down the road for several minutes, who decided to just keep running straight instead of getting off of the road. He kept looking back at us as he ran, I like to think he was saying goodbye. We arrived to the boat and immediately began loading our gear. To my surprise, the family that operates the boat office also joined the trip, and even with them we totaled 15 people on a 16 passenger boat. They told me this would be the last crossing for another week.
The waves on the lake felt like we were sailing the open ocean, and I immediatelly understood why the lake is impassable with greater wind speeds. No one got sick but several passengers were talking about it. I'm thankful my stomach has a strong constitution. After 2.5 hours of unrivaled scenery, towering fjords covered in snow above the turquoise colored water of the lake, we arrived to the other side. It was now almost 7pm, although the sun was still high in the sky. Three Chilean border patrol agents were there to meet us, and promptly took our passports and told us we had no choice but to camp for the night and begin our journey in the morning. They would bring us our passports to camp in two hours. This was no problem for me, as it had always been my plan, but several of the other travelers seemed quite upset they couldn't get a head start. Most of them were on bicycles and were eager to finish the first 22 km, where there is another lake and another boat crossing, but this one only 15 minutes. As the price of the 2nd boat is the same as the first, absolutely outrageous, I had planned to hike the next lake anyway, 12 km more, so I had no need to rush to for the next boat. With the heavy load of gear I have with me, much more than my normal backpacking load, I planned to walk very slowly. Two nights for the first 22km, and two more for the next 12, which I had heard were quite difficult.
I pitched my tent, poured the last of the boxed wine I had brought with me (no point in carrying the extra weight ;) ), and cooked dinner sitting in front of my tent. The other travelers all camped around me. We chatted for an hour or two about our plans and everyone went to bed early, the daylight still bright at 10pm. I went to sleep knowing that everyone would be far ahead of me in the morning and I was perfectly happy with that thought. I smiled thinking about having the trail all to myself.
Border Crossing Day 2 - Land of No One
I call this No Man's Land for a specific reason; it belongs to no one. Once you leave the edge of the first lake and cross Chilean border patrol, it is 22km of hiking until you reach the Argentinian border. These two countries have been disputing this land for a very long time, and they are not particularly fond of one another.
I finally rolled out of my tent around 8am. I'd had a terrible night's sleep, partly with anxiety about having to lug so much weight for so far, and part listening to everyone begin packing their gear at 4am. But when I awoke I was happy to see there was only one couple left in the campsite, friends from the night before, who were just finishing and about to hit the trail. I slowly made my coffee, stretching and smiling, the trail was going to be all mine. As I prepared to leave I noticed I had been wrong. There was one tent left, hidden behind the trees. I knew this was an Ecuadorian man, but he had spoken to the group very little, instead tending to his bicyle all evening. Oh well, I'm sure he'll pass me soon as he'll be traveling much faster than me.
It was an odd feeling as I crossed the Chilean border, no need to stop, as the border agents had stamped and brought my passport the night before. I was no longer in any country. I thought about this feeling quite a lot. It's one thing to be on a plane or in the open ocean while between countries, but to be walking through the mountains gave me a new sense of freedom, my feet firmly planted on soil that no one claimed, if only it weren't for the tremendous load I was carrying with me. Then a funny thought passed, how great would it be to have a bowl of weed right now?! I haven't smoked in a long time but this felt like the moment. It can't be illegal here, there is no one to pass laws on this land! I laughed out loud thinking about this to myself and trekked on. Today was going to be a long haul and I knew the weather was going to turn this afternoon. Better to push on now and find somewhere to hunker when the rain and the wind begins. For now, I enjoyed the sunshine and the last view of the lake as I crossed a river raging through a canyon. Every corner you turn here the landscape changes completely and offers a new treasure.
The most important thing I did not know about my journey was the terrain. I had not looked at the altitude changes, perhaps out of fear they would only scare me away from making this journey. So when I finally got a glance of the road in front me, winding up a mountain, my load suddenly felt heavier. But I could do nothing but laugh and trek on, there is literally no option but to move forward, and I was fully prepared.
The first five miles were very long. My gear heavy, the wind doing everything in its power to keep me from reaching the top of the first mountain, but I made it. My reward was my first view El Chaltén, also known as Fitz Roy. Probably the most famous mountain in all of Argentina, and ultimately the destination of this journey. This view also gave me another beautiful revelation, while the road would be up and down all the way, I would be making my down a valley all of the rest of the way. This was such good news I decided to break for lunch, forgetting all about the impending weather to come.
After lunch I made it another couple of miles down the road before I was abruplty startled by someone coming up from behind. It was the Ecuadorian on his bicycle. I had been so lost in my thoughts of being in No Man's Land that I had forgotten all about him. He slowed to my walking pace and just idly pedaled along next to me. He spoke to me in Spanish. "You know we're the last ones on the trail? There is literally no one behind us," he said. How funny, these had been my thoughts all day as well. His name was Sebastian and he has been traveling on his bike for 3 years. He started from Ecuador. Then came the best part, "You want to smoke some weed?"
Hallelujah! I felt like the clouds parted and the sun was shining directly upon my face. I know this sounds like a silly moment to many of you, but to me it was just another incredible moment of the universe bringing me the exact thing I wanted and needed in that moment. It wasn't about "getting high." It was about that perfect moment to connect with nature, to connect with land that belonged to no one, to stop feeling the weight of my bags, to have a friend to talk to in a moment I hadn't realized I had needed one. It was about living that moment of pure freedom to it's fullest. "Fuck yeah I want to smoke some weed!" I replied.
Then he offered something I truly couldn't believe; he offered to take my smaller bag and put it on the back of his bike. I can't put into words the kindness of strangers on this journey, although I would like to try in another post another day. It's been such a learning experience for me to learn to depend on others and allow them to help me. Honestly just writing those words in this moment makes me tear up. With the weight of my second bag gone I felt like I was traveling at lightning speed. He pedaled along side me and we chatted for hours about the changing terrain, forests and streams, the Land of No One, the magic of travel, and we did one thing effortlessly, we became fast friends.
I knew this about the trail... of the first 22km to reach the Argentina border, the first 15 are a gravel road and from there the last 7 would turn to a walking trail. I had only planned to make it halfway this day, but with the weight of my 2nd bag gone I was surprised when we reached the trail. At this rate and with my new friend I'll for sure be able to make it the whole 22km in one day. Another example of how you can never anticipate what will happen in Patagonia.
But just as we reached the trail reality set in that the weather was changing. The winds picked up and the rain began pelting us in the face. But the trail appeared as if it would offer us a refuge from the wind and rain as the forest grew thick. The air grew stagnant and humid and there was a change in energy. It was as if we could actually feel the Argentinian border approaching, and it felt less hospitable then I had remembered. Then the first obstacle, a strongly flowing stream with only criss-crossed logs for a crossing. It was going to take two of us to move the bike and gear across. Little did we know in this moment but that was the beginning of dozens of crossings just like this, as well as hills sloped in mud, with the rain streaming down making them difficult to traverse, even had we not had our gear. It was very much going to be a team effort from here on out to make the border, but together we were determined.
From here on out I pushed from behind when we went uphill. I kept the sticks out of the spokes when we crossed streams and lifted the front or the back or whatever was needed to get that bike where it needed to go. I felt proud that in these moments I could give something back, after he had carried my bag for nearly 8km and was the only reason I had made it this far in one day. The weather grew more extreme as the day wore on, and the terrain more impassable. Now we understood why the other cyclists were racing to take the boat across the other lake. We knew the trail only got more difficult if we were to continue trekking around the next lake tomorrow. But now we had each other, and together we were prepared for whatever was to come. We just need to make it to the border tonight and rest.
We trudged on, the last 7km taking equal amount of time as the first 15. We continued to look for somewhere to camp, but the land only told us we had to keep going. But finally the rain slowed enough that we could turn our heads and look up. We were rewarded with a new view. We could see the lake below us, the welcome sign to Argentina, and El Chaltén sitting what felt like right in front of us. We only had to make it down the hill and we were there, the first 22km finished in one day. While this is not normally a long way to make it in one day, I have to say this was some of the most difficult trail I've encountered, specifically the last 7km, with or without gear.
We arrived to border control. I'll never forget how little importance the border control agent put into our arrival. He stamped my passport before he so much as looked at my name. He told us we could camp for the night and that if we wanted to take the boat in the morning we needed to confirm with him that night. Then he told us the price, only half of what we had been hearing. This all seemed to good to be true. We promptly confirmed and set off to make camp. Then we combined our food and began to cook an absolute FEAST! What a brilliant day. But just as we were about to go to bed the border control agent came back. He was confirming us for the boat, but now the price had not only changed, but was higher than the original. Our hearts sank as we told him no, we didn't have the money to pay for that. And we went to bed knowing that indeed we'd be in for a real challenge in the morning. But we were together, and if need be we could slow it down and do it in two days, as I had originally planned. "Buenos noches," Sebastian said. "Buenos noches," I replied, and went to put on every layer of clothing I had as the sounds of the rain and wind beating my tent put me quickly to sleep.
Border Crossing Day 3 - Dia de Libertad... and La Policia
Oooof! "Why is it so coooold?" I thought to myself as I woke up. I didn't hear the wind. As a matter of fact, I didn't hear anything at all. It was the type of silence you only hear with... snow. Well I'll be damned, I hadn't expected that. I opened the tent and sure enough, it was snowing. It wasn't sticking to the ground at our level, but I could see the mountains had stocked up overnight. Then the reality sank back in about the difficult journey we had in front of us today. Sebastian hadn't risen from his tent yet, so I quietly made coffee and stilled my mind, preparing for the day ahead. It was likely about to be a long two-day journey tredging through thawing mud, lugging my baggage and Sebastian's bike up and down the valley ridges we could plainly see all along the lake. "That's ok," I thought. "This is the adventure of crossing such a remote border." I signed up for this.
But just as Sebastian emerged from his tent and we greeted each other in the silence of the snow, the border policeman returned to our campsite. He had had an idea for us. We could pay the boat driver for one person's passage, and perhaps that would be enough to take our luggage. We could then walk the 12km 'sin peso' (without weight) and meet the boat on the other side. The only catch was that we had to be there on the other side to meet the boat. We didn't understand at the time why they couldn't just leave our luggage on the dock, as there is certainly no one around, but the policeman insisted we needed to be there, and to make good time. He said we had a 4 hour window to make a 6 hour trek. But he insisted this was possible sin peso.
We thought about this for about 20 minutes, discussing our options. We hated the idea of paying and not getting on the boat, however the alternative sounded worse. We finally opted to confirm that we would put our luggage on the boat, and we gave the border police the money as they said they confirmed with the boat driver on the other side this was ok. We just had to be there to meet the boat. So we packed our things and took off as quickly as we could. We had to make time.
The hike was fairly eneventful. Up and down and up and down, across rivers and streams and waterfalls. We quickly realized how impossible this would have been with our gear and understood why they were able to charge such an absurd amount for such a small crossing. There was also no way we were going to be able to shave off two hours of this trek, but we would give it our all. Despite all of this, there was lightness in the air. This was the first time in 5 weeks that I haven't carried my bags. I felt like I was floating through the forest. All I could think was that if yesterday we were in a free land, today was truly the day of pure freedom, dia de libertad. We leaped from rock to rock, drank straight from the streams, and took pictures of the incredible scenes as the terrain changed drastically every kilometer.
We stopped only once, for lunch, at the halfway point. It had already taken us three hours to reach this point. There was no way we were going to be there to meet the boat. We guessed at what that could mean, but couldn't think of any outcome other than our things would be somewhere on the other end lying around. This is all of our gear for survival, our food, our shelter. There's no way that out here someone would just leave us without all of that to fend for the night. But there was only going to be one way to find out. Trek on.
We picked up the pace after lunch, a bit of food does wonders. At last we arrived in just a shade under five hours, not quite one hour late. To our surprise the police were there waiting for us, not the passenger boat. The police had a small dingy tied up to the dock. We couldn't see our things anywhere. I was so confused at this sight. When we approached them they began by telling us they had been waiting for an hour, and while they seemed a bit annoyed, they weren't particularly angry but also not particularly forthcoming. They began to chat with us about the trek, about the weather, about anything and everything that had nothing to do with our things. Finally, they invited (or commanded, depending on your point of view at the moment) us to get on the dingy. Still confused, they started the engine and pulled away from the dock. Then they told us we had been short 2,000 pesos. In this moment the swirling confusion all came to single and obvious focal point.
We hadn't paid the boat to bring our things. We had paid the police to bring our things. And now they wanted more money. It wasn't an exorbitant amount of money, but frustrating nonetheless. We gave them the remaining amount and they began to pick up speed. We still didn't understand where our things were. Then they slowly came into view. About 2km back, on the other side of the lake from the trail, our things sat waiting leaning against the trees on a small beach. As they pulled the boat up to the beach they told us to be thankful, we got to do the hike sin peso and we got a boat ride. Yeah, thanks a lot. They wouldn't let us so much as take our phones out of our pockets but I was still able to sneak a couple of pics. They dropped us off on the side of the lake. Now we'd have 2km more to hike back toward the dock where there was a place to camp for the night. While Sebastian was quite angry about the situation I couldn't help myself from laughing. I laughed so hard and so loud that Sebastian finally joined in. We laughed until we cried. Then we picked up our things and began the journey back to find somewhere to set up for the night, spouting very choice words at the police the entire way. Luckily it was flat and easy.
We had traversed the Tierra de Nadie. We had done it in two days as opposed to my planned four. I hadn't done it alone but with a very unexpected and welcomed friend. The easiest customs control I had ever experienced turned into me paying the police. If there is anything about this journey to the 'end of the world' that I can count on, it's to expect the unexpected, and that a kind stranger will always appear when I need them most, sometimes when I don't even realize.
Sebastian again put my small bag on the back of his bike and we started walking back. All the while all I could think was...
"Welcome to Argentina."
See you out there,
J. James
