Training Log Archive: blairtrewin

Like Bariloche, 6.30am on Sunday morning is still definitely part of Saturday night in Rio Gallegos. I decided to head for the waterfront, partly in the name of avoiding too many road crossings which might involve encountering drivers of unknown sobriety. It wasn't a terribly scenic run, but then I've been rather spoilt in that department in the last week. The run itself felt a bit like the morning after the day before, but the Achilles warmed up eventually.

This was the prelude to the last long haul southwards - once you hit Ushuaia the only ways to go further south are to hit the air or the water. It was a longer haul (in time terms) because by far the narrowest point of the straits between Tierra del Fuego and the mainland are in Chile, so there were two border crossings as well as the ferry crossing. These are proper borders too (not the sort you find in Europe where the only way you find out you're in a new country is that the colour of the road signs has changed). There's even the odd minefield left over from skirmishes associated with a late 1970s border dispute, which failed to escalate to a full-scale war after the Pope told both parties to the dispute to stop it or they'd go blind (or words to that effect).

The northern half of Tierra del Fuego, like eastern Patagonia, is windswept and treeless. Coming towards the end of this was Rio Grande, which announced itself with a grandiose sign proclaiming it (in Spanish and English) to be "the city of your dreams". The only people for whom it was likely to be a city of dreams were those who had the good sense to sleep for the duration of our transit - it was actually one of the most dismal places I've seen on this trip (although it does get a few points for having a bowling lane in the bus station). As I understand it, local economic activity mostly involves either digging (or pumping) stuff out of the ground, or taking advantage of tax rorts incentives; the place also comes from the we've-got-lots-of-room-so-let's-use-it-all school of urban planning.

The trip, as expected, got a lot more interesting after that, getting into hillier and more forested country in the first 100 kilometres before building to a crescendo of glaicated mountain ranges in the last 100 into Ushuaia (unfortunately, there was too much gunk on the bus windows for good photos - there's still a fair bit of gravel road on the Chilean side - but I'll get another chance on Wednesday). Got into Ushuaia at 8.30, an hour earlier than expected, and will be here for the next couple of days, setting various furthest-south milestones and, depending on the weather, seeing some of the surrounding mountains.

Snow to sea level is a possibility on Tuesday night (the air should be cold enough, the main issue will be moisture).

This time, the day started with good news from home in the form of the Victorian election result (which was not quite finalised by the time I set out, but was all but certain).

Headed out a bit before 8; unusually for this trip, after breakfast (most places I've stayed don't start breakfast until too late for this to be an option so I've been running on bananas or muesli bars, but here they start at 6, I think because the flights out of here leave early). Original plan was to climb up onto the range behind town - perhaps the first proper Six Foot training run - but the track up there (marked as a road on a map I'd seen) had a "private property" sign at the start so instead I stayed on the road running southwest along the base of the scarp, which meant a smaller climb, peaking at around 500 metres instead of 700-800 (from a base of 180). Excellent conditions, with temperatures around 6-8 and light winds by local standards.

The first few kilometres getting out of town felt reasonably mundane, apart from seeing the local hoons in action (memo: despite its favourable weight properties in the power-to-weight ratio, a rusted-out Fiat Uno is not really the vehicle you want for street racing). Picked up once I left the El Calafate town limits at about 4k, still not very fast on the steady uphill, but feeling as if I was enjoying it - as I've noted before, particularly in the context of desert runs, there's a certain purity about it when it's just you, rolling steppe (with a distant backdrop of glaciated peaks) and a strip of gravel stretching endlessly into the horizon. This sense of purity was strengthened by the lack of traffic, as in the next 45 minutes I saw more horses being ridden (two) than motor vehicles being driven (one). (There was more traffic coming back - a few tours head out this way and evidently 9ish is a common departure time).

Throughout the later stages of the outward section it felt like one of those runs which would take off once I turned around and it shifted to being flat to downhill (and the wind, such as it was, became a tailwind), and so it proved as the second half was one of the most enjoyable runs I've had in a long time, particularly the last 5k, almost floating along at times. The bubble wasn't even pricked when I got back into town and hit the local equivalent of the Parkwood Minor Industrial Estate (perhaps I was especially keen to get out of the place because that kilometre was the fastest non-speedwork kilometre I've done in yonks). Finished off really well and felt as if I still had a lot left in me, despite this being the longest I've done in some months.

The parallels with a run at least as good in mountain country on roughly this weekend three years ago (the Pyrenees that time) did not go unnoticed.

The remainder of the day saw the reasonably mundane trip down to Rio Gallegos on the east coast - the transit point to pick up the Ushuaia bus tomorrow. Rio Gallegos is definitely back off the tourist track (after a few days of being in places which are essentially tourist centres) - it's the biggest place for a very long way around, a regional centre roughly the size of Wagga or Dubbo, and has that sort of feel to it. One feature of it which I was keen to see was the Museo Malvinas Argentinas, though it turned out to be different to what I'd been led to believe - instead of being largely about stating their claim to the islands, it was mostly a war museum from the 1982 war. (Of course Australia would never build a museum to mark a spectacular military failure). Rio Gallegos is the closest Argentine port and has a large military base, which means it probably ranks fairly high on the list of places that might get bombs dropped on it if there is ever another war.

And I've got the hut bookings I wanted for Torres del Paine, which means that the tent I've been carrying around the Americas is going to turn out to be surplus to requirements (except as an emergency backup if the weather turns really foul mid-leg). The long-range forecast is also not too bad, although I'm not sure if a model run which says a small intense low to the west on Friday is going to dive south-east and miss the area is one I'd want to stake my life on yet.

Weekly rest day today - unlike some other weeks on this trip, there isn't a day this week when the timing of such has been driven by trasnport schedules making a run impossible. The hotel here has a gym, of sorts, and I did consider doing a bit of an exercise bike session, but its resistance setting wouldn't change from the lowest so I didn't really see the point.

Today was devoted to visiting the Perito Moreno Glacier. This is a particularly interesting set-up. It's a glacier of fairly stable size (like some other glaciers fed by the westerlies, such as some of the Norwegian ones, increased precipitation is offsetting higher temperatures), and goes into an arm of a very large lake, which it comes very close to cutting in two - at present the gap is perhaps 50 metres wide. Every so often it does advance far enough to cut the lake in two and water builds up on the southern side to quite a height (probably 10 metres or so judging from the lower limit of vegetation) before the ice wall collapses under the weight of water and unleashes a monstrous outflow. This happens once every few years on average, most recently in June 2012.

The configuation does mean you can look at its face (which is probably 50 metres or so high) from not too far away on the other side of the lake, and watch as big blocks of ice regularly fall into the water below - something the size of a car or bigger falls off every few minutes or so.

Last night's entertainment was the latest instalment of the River Plate-Boca Juniors rivalry (the clubs, and the TV stations, can't be too upset that the draw for the South American Cup saw them meet twice in a week). In the early minutes, which featured a penalty (which was saved) inside 30 seconds, and four yellow cards, I was wondering if the teams had taken up Australian Rules instead from the number of hip-and-shoulders delivered. It settled down a bit after that, but I'm still very surprised that the match finished with only one goal on the scoreboard, and 22 players still on the pitch. One feature of the telecast, though, will be very familiar to Victorians, at least - incessant government ads spruiking everything from new trains on suburban lines in Buenos Aires to the new Malvinas Museum.

And there are a lot of things I'll miss about Argentina, but their financial system is not one of them - I'm continuing to learn that when it comes to paying for things here, US$ cash is definitely the first preference, then euros, then other major South American currencies (like Brazilian or Chilean), then local cash, with credit cards a distant last - whether this is because of bank fees, because it makes it harder to avoid tax, or because with inflation running at 20-30% by the time they get the money it will be worth a lot less, is unclear. Either the machines here are very unreliable or I'm being told porkies by at least a few of the people who say their credit card machines are "broken" (the latest being the bus company I was getting tickets from today).

C • Perito M 4

Rose this morning to be greeted by the bad news from home. I hadn't fully absorbed it by the time I started running - that was to come later in the day - but it was still something to be thought about from time to time during a couple of hours on Patagonian gravel. Like a lot of people, it seems, this has affected me more than the passing of just about any other public figure I can remember. Part of it is the sheer shock, part of it, it seems to me, is that we're so used to seeing batsmen hit on the head and take strike again a minute or two later (or, if they're unlucky, break something and miss a couple of matches) that to see such an incident from which someone doesn't walk vway is totally alien to the way we think things should happen. This is definitely a day I feel a long way from home.

Cricket, more than any other sport I know, has a keen sense of its own history, and I suspected I wasn't the only person who thought of the parallels with Archie Jackson, another swashbuckling NSW opener of three generations ago cut down in his mid-twenties, though by illness rather than accident. (Later in the day, indeed, I was to read two pieces - one in the Guardian, one in the Australian - on exactly that theme).

It's also a reminder that the one presidential duty I hope never to have to carry out is to give a media statement of the sort given today by James Sutherland or Michael Clarke.

Back to the run. I headed north from town this time, hoping to reach the point where the valley takes a 90-degree turn, thus exposing even more views. This mission was duly accomplished. The wind again made its presence felt - definitely a negative split (to the tune of 3 1/2 minutes) today. The run was pretty solid for the most part (though with a bit of a scare with a hamstring twinge right at the end, definitely not the place you want something to go wrong in a remote area); fell away in the last 10 minutes, which I think might have been at least partially through losing more fluid than I thought on a warmer morning than the last few (judging by the amount I drank through the rest of the day).

Timed my walks well: the high peaks were all in cloud today. I've been falling on my feet a bit on this trip, and another example came when the place I stayed offered a substantial discount if I paid US$ cash - something I had enough to do with $2 to spare.

Headed down to El Calafate this afternoon. This is a more substantial town, and most importantly, has a functional post office (which I got to 15 minutes before closing time), so the voting mission was finally accomplished. (It's still got to get back to Melbourne inside two weeks, which might be pushing it).

San Martin count: now 4 out of 6.

C • Media coverage 4

Not sure exactly what this is referring to (Hoggster, whom I presume is at the meeting it was sent from, may be able to enlighten us), but it's good to know I'm being missed :-)

Headed north from town in pursuit of a waterfall, initially on the gravel road (which I plan to spend more time on tomorrow), then on a (fairly flat) foot track for the last 1.5k or so. The waterfall having been duly sighted (and photographed), I then had the choice (given my intended distance) of continuing north for another 10 minutes, or going back and doing the extra in town. I did the town option, mainly in the name of checking out the conditions on the peaks (Fitz Roy is visible from the southern part of town but not the northern). Rather sleepy in the earlier stages, and Achilles wasn't having a great day either.

There was quite a lot of cloud around the village and I was wondering if it was going to be worth doing serious walking, but closer inspection revealed that the cloud was fairly high and that Fitz Roy, at least, was generally visible. I headed in that direction but didn't do quite what I'd originally planned - the last part of that walk is a fairly rugged climb (400m in 2k on scree) to a glacial lake, and the weather was good enough that I thought I might have a decent chance of seeing Cerro Torre if I went somewhere from which it was visible, whereas the climb was likely to give me a closer-up view of what I could already see quite spectacularly. I therefore decided to scrub the climb and instead do a 6km track which cut across to yesterday's route about halfway along.

The stated objective was achieved - I got a Cerro Torre summit sighting (well-timed; it was in cloud again within 20 minutes). What I hadn't anticipated was that the route to get there took me through some of the best orienteering terrain I'll never run on. The top couple of kilometres of the valley looked magical - open southern beech forest with very little understorey (though a bit of fallen timber), a reasonable number of clean rock features but not much rocky ground surrounding them - a bit like the nicer Australian granite areas - and not particularly steep as long as you didn't go too far up the mountain. The next ridge across looked even better from a distance, although I'm not sure if there was a good way across the dark green marsh in between to get there. (Note for those readers who aren't orienteers, and I know there are a few: dark green is the colour used on maps to show impenetrable or near-impenetrable vegetation: in Victoria it's usually blackberry or gorse). It will never be used on at least three counts ((a) it's in a national park where even off-track walking is technically forbidden (b) the closest vehicle access is about 7km away and (c) there are currently no orienteers based within 3000km of the place), but it was still fun to imagine events there during the half-hour or so that it took me to walk through it.

Today's walk ended up being about 20km as well; knew I'd had a decent day out by the end of it. A post-trek waffle and hot chocolate definitely hit the spot.

C • Not that you need it but 4

Under normal circumstances, an intervals session in a car park sounds like it's the stuff of last resorts. It certainly doesn't sound like a likely scene to what will probably go down as one of my most memorable runs of the year (caveat: there are likely to be numerous opportunities for its displacement in the coming fortnight).

I'd come to the car park of the national park visitor centre on the southern edge of El Chalten for a couple of reasons; it had some chance of being a bit sheltered from the wind, and being a little out of town it was also likely to be out of the range of stray dogs, which I'd heard (inaccurately as it turned out) were a real issue here. What I didn't know in advance was that it was a location which, on a morning such as this, offered the most stunning views of one of the world's more stunning mountains, Cerro Fitz Roy - certainly something to savour during the recovery periods.

It was certainly an inspiring setting and I was reasonably inspired, running a much better session than this time last week (admittedly not the highest of bars to clear). It helped that the loop I was doing was such that the downhill half was upwind and the uphill half downwind - the reverse might have made for a tough 30 seconds out of 60.

Warm-up and down, going from one end of El Chalten to the other and checking out what's here. It's a somewhat oddball place which is essentially here to support one thing only - trekking (with a bit of climbing and mountain-biking on the side). You don't come here unless you're prepared to do some reasonably serious walking - even the shortest worthwhile walk is around 6km with some solid climbing. At this time of year it's definitely spot-the-local (probably a bit different during the January holidays), with English being heard around the place at least as often as Spanish (and German making regular appearances too).

(Actually, the town's original purpose wasn't tourism - it was built in a hurry in 1985 because, in an era when relations between the countries were tenser than they are now, Argentina wanted to forestall any possible Chilean claim to the land).

Walking was what I did with much of the rest of the day (once I'd tried to sort out a few other things, of which more below). There are overnight trips from here but most of what's worth doing is doable as long day walks (unlike Torres del Paine). Today's was to Laguna Torre and return, about 20km, with a solid climb in the first couple of kilometres but fairly flat thereafter with just a few ups and downs. (You can hide a lot in 50-metre contours - even Cerro Torre, one of the world's most difficult technical mountaineering challenges, looks like a steepish knoll at that interval).

The main objective of this walk is views of Cerro Torre and the remainder of that range. I didn't quite get a complete view of Cerro Torre as bits of its peak came in and out of cloud, but that was only a minor disappointment because there was plenty of other scenery to be stunned by. Laguna Torre, at the end, is a glacial lake (I suspect of very recent vintage in geological terms), complete with ice floes from the glacier feeding it at the other end piling up against the lake's eastern shore. A steady stream of people without it feeling overcrowded. Walking times here bear a bit more resemblance to reality than they sometimes do in Australian national parks, but something advertised as 6-7 hours was completed in a bit under 5 without having to push too hard. The weather was a pleasant surprise - the howling winds of the valley were blocked by the Fitz Roy range once up on the walk, and only at the lake were they even moderate.

There weren't as many photo stops on the way back - partly because I'd already got a lot of good ones, and partly because cloud was beginning to descend over the higher peaks. (You'll have to wait a few days for the photos - bandwidth here is too poor to support anything much beyond AP, which may also explain things if you're waiting for me to respond to an e-mail - but if you feel like getting a preview, I'm sure there are plenty of online images of Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre).

Tomorrow's plan, if the weather is OK (it's not going to be worth doing all of it if there are no views), is a 24km out-and-back to the northwest.

And I still haven't succeeded in voting. I did find the El Chalten post office (or rather, what looked like an ordinary house with a post box out the front and a 'Correo Argentina' sign on the wall), but there was no indication of what hours, if any, postal services are provided from the premises - it certainly wasn't on any of the three occasions I went past today. El Calafete on Thursday afternoon is looking like a better prospect (and it would probably still get there as quickly or more quickly, given that El Calafete has direct flights to Buenos Aires).

C • El Calafete 1

This was an example of the sort of run I quite like to do when I'm on the road - find an empty back road (preferably dirt, but bitumen with not much traffic will do), preferably not the one I entered town on or plan to leave by, and do an out-and-back, just me and the road/track stretching to the horizon. The road to Perito Moreno's less-than-overwhelmed airport did this job quite nicely. I did, however, get to experience some more of the local headwinds, most notably in the 2k before the turnaround when I climbed out of the valley onto the plateau and hit the full force. (Nearly all the Patagonian settlements I've seen so far have been on valley floors, probably for access to water but a bit of wind protection's a nice bonus). Working hard at that stage but feeling pretty good later on (including in crosswinds). Might have to do some advance planning of long runs if this keeps up - going into winds like that continuously for an hour (either going out or coming back) will be challenging. The brilliant sunshine was a reminder that I'm heading into ozone hole territory (though it's a bit late in the season for the worst of it).

That was the prelude to another long day on the road - this time we were nearly two hours late (arriving at 8.30, though still with plenty of light). I also neglected to take the opportunity of our brief stop at Bajo Caracoles - accurately described by Bruce Chatwin as "a crossroads of insignificant importance with roads leading all directions apparently to nowhere" - to get supplies for lunch and therefore didn't get another chance until 3pm. Irregular food timetables and sometimes rough roads aside, it was another interesting day, lots more epic bleakness but with enough glimpses of distant delights to let us know what to look forward to over the next few days. There were times when one could easily imagine oneself somewhere out past Coober Pedy - rocky low tablelands, sand dunes and straggly saltbush - and then you turned your head 90 degrees and saw the glacial lake and the jagged white range in the distance....